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PASSAGES FROM THE AMERICAN 
NOTE-BOOKS 



OF 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE 



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BOSTON AND NEW YORK ^ P{ A 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

1896 



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Copyright, 1868, 

By SOPHIA HAWTHORNE. 

Copyright, 1883, 

By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 

Copyright, 1896, 

By ROSE HAWTHORNE LATHROP. 

All rights reserved. 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company. 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 



AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 

After the death of Hawthorne, the desire for a 
biography was so strongly expressed, both among his 
friends and by the public at large, that his widow was 
prompted to supply in part the information of which 
there was obviously much need. As she has explained 
in her Preface to the " English Note-Books," Haw- 
thorne's own wish was that no one should attempt to 
write his life. Lapsing time and the perspective im- 
parted by the world's settled estimate of his genius* 
have shown that no final restriction ought to be im- 
posed on the natural instinct and right of students 
and sincere admirers to seek a more personal knowl- 
edge of the author than his imaginative writings could 
yield. His preference, respecting the publication of 
a biography, was not, indeed, an absolute injunction ; 
but it is not strange that Mrs. Hawthorne should 
have chosen to conform to it. In default, then, of the 
life which she was unwilling to countenance or under- 
take, she resolved to offer these extracts from his 
memorandum-books or diaries, supplemented by por- 
tions of his letters. They were designed to present 
some suggestion of his mode of life and mental habit, 
and to counteract a false impression of his personality 
which the sombre tone of his fictions had spread 
abroad. 



6 INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 

The passages relating to his American life having 
been well received, and as it was necessary, in order 
to complete an outline of the later career, that his 
European experience should be presented through a 
similar medium, the " English Note-Books " and the 
" French and Italian Note-Books " were published in 
1870 and 1871, respectively. 

It has been remarked by a recent writer, in a light 
monograph on Hawthorne, that the Note-Books read 
like a series of rather dull letters, written by the ro- 
mancer to himself, during a term of years. Whatever 
degree of acumen this remark may indicate in the 
maker, it shows clearly that he has left out of account 
(if he took pains to examine at all) the manner in 
which the notes came into existence and the circum- 
stances of their publication. When Hawthorne was 
about twelve years of age, it is supposed that a blank 
volume was given him by one of his uncles, " with 
the advice " — so runs an inscription purporting to 
have been copied from the first leaf of this book — 
" to write out his thoughts, some every day, in as good 
words as he can, upon any and all subjects, as it is 
one of the best means of his securing for mature years 
command of thought and language." 1 The habit of 
keeping a journal as an exercise, and of describing or- 
dinary occurrences day by day, with the impression 
made upon him by them, was thus formed very early 
in life, and partially accounts for the ease and preci- 
sion of his language in the Note-Books now included 
among his published works. This circumstance will 
also explain how it became a second nature with the 

1 For particulars concerning this boyish Note-Book, with extracts 
from it, the reader is referred to A Study of Hawthorne, III., 83. 
9,nd to Appendix I. of that volume. 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 7 

author, even in maturer years, to confide his daily ob- 
servations to the pages of some private register, and 
often to enter there details which, to the careless 
glance, appear unaccountably slight. In the first half 
of this century, the custom of keeping regular diaries 
and voluminous journals was much more general than 
at the present day, owing to the greater leisureliness 
of life at that time. People recorded in them, as those 
do who still maintain the custom, the smallest transac- 
tions of each twenty-four hours ; and Hawthorne him- 
self, during some years, wrote similar memoranda in 
pocket-books, which allowed only a brief space to each 
day. The manuscript books from which the published 
passages have been taken were not of that sort, but 
were evidently used as media for the preservation of 
passing impressions, which might or might not prove 
subsequently valuable for reference, in composition. 
Frequently the purpose of an entry may have been 
merely to deepen, by the act of writing, some fleeting 
association of a sight or sound with an inward train of 
thought which does not appear in the written words at 
all ; as in that sentence, which has been cited as an evi- 
dence of mental vacancy, " The smell of peat-smoke 
in the autumnal air is very pleasant." The " Ameri- 
can Note-Books," in fine, should be taken for precisely 
what they are, and no more ; that is, repositories of 
the most informal kind, for such fragments of obser- 
vation and reflection as the writer chose to commit to 
them for his own purposes ; as the results, too, of an 
early-formed taste for exercising his pen upon the sim- 
plest objects of notice that surrounded him. Bearing 
in mind the vogue of journal-writing at that period, 
we shall not find it surprising if items occur which do 
not possess universal interest, but seem to have found 



8 INTRODUCTORY NOTE 

a place through the inertia of a long-established habit 
of making notes. Living for many years in a solitary 
way, and always invested with a peculiar sensitive and 
shy reserve, Hawthorne would sometimes naturally let 
fall from the point of his pen, in the companionship 
of his journal, passing remarks which another person 
would have made in conversation ; no permanent im- 
portance being attached to them in either case. 

From their character and origin, it is impossible 
that the Note-Books should furnish a complete picture 
of Hawthorne's mind and qualities, though they con- 
vey hints of them. The records themselves were scat- 
tered through books of various sizes, sometimes only 
half -filled and sometimes labelled " Scrap -Book." 
Probably the idea that they would be presented in 
print to the public never even occurred to the writer. 
Nor is the absence of the author's opinions on literary 
matters at all extraordinary. Surprise has been ex- 
pressed that the fact of his reading a volume of Ea- 
belais should be mentioned, without any accompany- 
ing disquisition touching Rabelais. It was no part of 
Hawthorne's aim as an author to analyze other au- 
thors ; and it is doubtful whether he greatly cared to 
form elaborate critical estimates of them, although it 
is manifest enough from his remarks on his own work, 
in his prefaces, that he could characterize and discuss 
literary art with fine penetration. His judgment of 
Anthony Trollope, given in a published letter, also ex- 
hibits his keen appreciation of a widely different kind 
of work. But even had he chosen to make such esti- 
mates, he would not have incorporated them in a jour- 
nal kept for an entirely different purpose ; a journal 
which obviously cannot be assumed with any justice to 
mirror his whole intellectual life. So that, while the 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 9 

* American Note-Books " contain many traces of his 
personality, throw some light on his habit of observ- 
ing common things, and intimate the outward condi- 
tions of his modest course of living, they contain few 
of those deep reflections which come to light- in his 
works of imagination ; and they must not be looked to 
for a revelation of the entire man. In basing opinions 
upon them, it is well to remember, and apply in this 
case also, what Hawthorne once said in a letter to Mr. 
Fields: — 

" An old Quaker wrote me, the other day, that he 
had been reading my Introduction to the ' Mosses ' 
and the ' Scarlet Letter,' and felt as if he knew me 
better than his best friend ; but I think he consider- 
ably overestimates the extent of his intimacy with 
me." 

The finish and deliberation of the style in these 
fragmentary chronicles, fitly known under the name of 
Note-Books, are very likely to mislead any one who 
does not constantly recall the fact that they were writ- 
ten currente calamo, and merely as superficial memo- 
randa, beneath which lay the author's deeper medita- 
tion, always reserved in essence until he was ready to 
precipitate it in the plastic forms of fiction. Speak- 
ing of " Our Old Home," which — charming though 
it be to the reader — was drawn almost wholly from 
the surface deposit of his " English Note-Books," 
Hawthorne said : " It is neither a good nor a weighty 
book." And this, indirectly, shows that he did not 
regard the journals as concentrating the profounder 
substance of his genius. 

The series of passages from the " American Note- 
Books " covers the space of eighteen years, almost to a 
day; the extracts running from June 15, 1835, to 



10 INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 

June 9, 1853 ; and in a detached way it represents 
the main part of Hawthorne's career throughout the 
period of his rise from obscurity to fame, purely as a 
growth of American soil and conditions, before he had 
ever set foot in Europe. 

Doubt has been thrown upon the correctness of one 
date in the printed volume, that of September 7, 1835, 

describing " A drive to Ipswich with B ." The 

person referred to as " B " is still living, and did 

not become acquainted with Hawthorne until 1845, — 
ten years later than the date of the entry in question. 
It is possible that an error of transcription may have 
occurred, owing to indistinctness of chirography or the 
confused manner of keeping these early Note-Books ; 
but in the main the chronology may be relied upon as 
accurate. Two other passages require a brief expla- 
nation. Under date of August 31, 1836, is printed 
the sentence : " In this dismal chamber fame was 
won." (Salem, Union Street.) Again, one reads : 
" Salem, Oct. 4:th, Union Street [Family Mansion]. 
— ... Here I sit in my old accustomed chamber. . . . 
Here I have written my tales," etc. The reference in 
both instances is to Herbert Street, Salem ; and the 
simple explanation of another street-name being sub- 
stituted is as follows. Hawthorne was born in a house 
on Union Street, Salem. After the death of his fa- 
ther, a ship-captain, at Surinam, in 1808, his mother 
removed " to the house of her father in Herbert Street, 
the next one eastward from Union. The land belong- 
ing to this ran through to Union Street, adjoining the 
house they had left ; and from his top-floor study here, 
in later years, Hawthorne could look down on the less 
lofty roof under which he was born. The Herbert 
Street house, however, was spoken of as being on 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE, 11 

Union Street." 1 Hence, in the two passages above 
cited, " Herbert Street " should be put in the place of 
" Union Street," if it be desired to identify the exact 
locality. Hawthorne wrote his first stories in the Her- 
bert Street house ; but that house, the family man- 
sion (now, through the indifference of his townsmen, 
become a tenement-house), was always referred to by 
members of the family as being on Union Street. 

Here and there passages of the original record have 
been omitted in the Note-Books as published by Mrs. 
Hawthorne; but the most vital and significant por- 
tions are retained in the printed version; and these, 
in the collected works, are all that will be given to 
the public. 

G. P. L. 
1 A Study of Hawthorne, III., 62, 63. 



PASSAGES FROM HAWTHORNE'S 

AMEBICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 



Salem, June 15, 1835. — A walk down to the 
Juniper. The shore of the coves strewn with bunches 
of sea-weed, driven in by recent winds. Eel-grass, 
rolled and bundled up, and entangled with it, — large 
marine vegetables, of an olive-color, with round, slen- 
der, snake-like stalks, four or five feet long, and nearly 
two feet broad : these are the herbage of the deep sea. 
Shoals of fishes, at a little distance from the shore, 
discernible by their fins out of water. Among the 
heaps of sea-weed there were sometimes small pieces 
of painted wood, bark, and other driftage. On the 
shore, with pebbles of granite, there were round or 
oval pieces of brick, which the waves had rolled about 
till they resembled a natural mineral. Huge stones 
tossed about, in every variety of confusion, some shag- 
ged all over with sea-weed, others only partly covered, 
others bare. The old ten-gun battery, at the outer 
angle of the Juniper, very verdant, and besprinkled 
with white-weed, clover, and buttercups. The juni- 
per-trees are very aged and decayed and moss-grown. 
The grass about the hospital is rank, being trodden, 
probably, by nobody but myself. There is a represen 
tation of a vessel under sail, cut with a penknife, on 
the corner of the house. 



14 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1835. 

Returning by the almshouse, I stopped a good while 
to look at the pigs, — a great herd, — who seemed to 
be just finishing their suppers. They certainly are 
types of unmitigated sensuality, — some standing in 
the trough, in the midst of their own and others' vict- 
uals, — some thrusting their noses deep into the food, 
I — some rubbing their backs against a post, — some 
huddled together between sleeping and waking, breath- 
ing hard, — all wallowing about ; a great boar swag- 
gering round, and a big sow waddling along with her 
huge paunch. Notwithstanding the unspeakable de- 
filement with which these strange sensualists spice all 
their food, they seem to have a quick and delicate 
sense of smell. What ridiculous - looking animals ! 
Swift himself could not have imagined anything nas- 
tier than what they practise by the mere impulse of 
natural genius. Yet the Shakers keep their pigs very 
clean, and with great advantage. The legion of dev- 
ils in the herd of swine, — what a scene it must have 
been! 

Sunday evening, going by the jail, the setting sun 
kindled up the windows most cheerfully ; as if there 
were a bright, comfortable light within its darksome 
stone wall. 

June 18ZA. — A walk in North Salem in the decline 
of yesterday afternoon, — beautiful weather, bright, 
sunny, with a western or northwestern wind just cool 
enough, and a slight superfluity of heat. The ver- 
dure, both of trees and grass, is now in its prime, the 
leaves elastic, all life. The grass-fields are plenteously 
bestrewn with white-weed, large spaces looking as white 
as a sheet of snow, at a distance, yet with an indescrib- 
ably warmer tinge than snow, — living white, inter- 



1835.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 15 

mixed with living green. The hills and hollows be- 
yond the Cold Spring copiously shaded, principally 
with oaks of good growth, and some walnut-trees, with 
the rich sun brightening in the midst of the open 
spaces, and mellowing and fading into the shade, — - 
and single trees, with their cool spot of shade, in the 
waste of sun : quite a picture of beauty, gently pict- 
uresque. The surface of the land is so varied, with 
woodland mingled, that the eye cannot reach far away, 
except now and then in vistas perhaps across the river, 
showing houses, or a church and surrounding village, 
in Upper Beverly. In one of the sunny bits of pas- 
ture, walled irregularly in with oak-shade, I saw a 
gray mare feeding, and, as I drew near, a colt sprang 
up from amid the grass, — a very small colt. He 
looked me in the face, and I tried to startle him, so as 
to make him gallop ; but he stretched his long legs, 
one after another, walked quietly to his mother, and 
began to suck, — just wetting his lips, not being very 
hungry. Then he rubbed his head, alternately, with 
each hind leg. He was a graceful little beast. 

I bathed in the cove, overhung with maples and wal- 
nuts, the water cool and thrilling. At a distance it 
sparkled bright and blue in the breeze and sun. There 
were jelly-fish swimming about, and several left to melt 
away on the shore. On the shore, sprouting amongst 
the sand and gravel, I found samphire, growing some- 
what like asparagus. It is an excellent salad at this 
season, salt, yet with an herb-like vivacity, and very 
tender. I strolled slowly through the pastures, watch- 
ing my long shadow making grave, fantastic gestures 
in the sun. It is a pretty sight to see the sunshine 
brightening the entrance of a road which shortly be- 
comes deeply overshadowed by trees on both sides. 



16 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1835. 

At the Cold Spring, three little girls, from six to 
nine, were seated on the stones in which the fountain 
is set, and paddling in the water. It was a pretty pic- 
ture, and would have been prettier, if they had shown 
bare little legs, instead of pantalets. Very large trees 
overhung them, and the sun was so nearly gone down 
that a pleasant gloom made the spot sombre, in con- 
trast with these light and laughing little figures. On 
perceiving me, they rose up, tittering among them- 
selves. It seemed that there was a sort of playful 
malice in those who first saw me ; for they allowed the 
other to keep on paddling, without warning her of my 
approach. I passed along, and heard them come 
chattering behind. 

June 22d. — I rode to Boston in the afternoon with 
Mr. Proctor. It was a coolish day, with clouds and 
intermitting sunshine, and a pretty fresh breeze. We 
stopped about an hour at the Maverick House, in the 
sprouting branch of the city, at East Boston, — a styl- 
ish house, with doors painted in imitation of oak ; a 
large bar; bells ringing; the bar-keeper calls out, when 
a bell rings, "Number — "; then a waiter replies, 
" Number — answered " ; and scampers up stairs. A 
ticket is given by the hostler, on taking the horse and 
chaise, which is returned to the bar -keeper when 
the chaise is wanted. The landlord was fashionably 
dressed, with the whitest of linen, neatly plaited, and 
as courteous as a Lord Chamberlain. Visitors from 
Boston thronging the house, — some standing at the 
bar, watching the process of preparing tumblers of 
punch, — others sitting at the windows of different 
parlors, — some with faces flushed, puffing cigars. 
The bill of fare for the day was stuck up beside the 



1835.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 17 

bar. Opposite this principal hotel there was another, 
called " The Mechanics," which seemed to be equally 
thronged. I suspect that the company were about on 
a par in each; for at the Maverick House, though 
well dressed, they seemed to be merely Sunday gentle- 
men, — mostly young fellows, — clerks in dry-goods 
stores being the aristocracy of them. One, very fash- 
ionable in appearance, with a handsome cane, happened 
to stop by me and lift up his foot, and I noticed that 
the sole of his boot (which was exquisitely polished) 
was all worn out. I apprehend that some such minor 
deficiencies might have been detected in the general 
showiness of most of them. There were girls, too, but 
not pretty ones, nor, on the whole, such good imita- 
tions of gentility as the young men. There were as 
many people as are usually collected at a muster, or on 
similar occasions, lounging about, without any appar- 
ent enjoyment ; but the observation of this may serve 
me to make a sketch of the mode of spending the Sab- 
bath by the majority of unmarried, young, middling- 
class people, near a great town. Most of the people 
had smart canes and bosom-pins. 

Crossing the ferry into Boston, we went to the City 
Tavern, where the bar-room presented a Sabbath scene 
of repose, — stage-folk lounging in chairs half asleep, 
smoking cigars, generally with clean linen and other 
niceties of apparel, to mark the day. The doors and 
blinds of an oyster and refreshment shop across the 
street were closed, but I saw people enter it. There 
were two owls in a back court, visible through a win- 
dow of the bar-room, — speckled gray, with dark-blue 
eyes, — the queerest - looking birds that exist, — so 
solemn and wise, — dozing away the day, much like 
the rest of the people, only that they looked wiser 



18 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1835. 

than any others. Their hooked beaks looked like 
hooked noses. A dull scene this. A stranger, here 
and there, poring over a newspaper. Many of the 
stage-folk sitting in chairs on the pavement, in front 
of the door. 

We went to the top of the hill which formed part of 
Gardiner Greene's estate, and which is now in the pro- 
cess of levelling, and pretty much taken away, except 
the highest point, and a narrow path to ascend to it. 
It gives an admirable view of the city, being almost as 
high as the steeples and the dome of the State House, 
and overlooking the whole mass ©f brick buildings and 
slated roofs, with glimpses of streets far below. It was 
really a pity to take it down. I noticed the stump 
of a very large elm, recently felled. No house in the 
city could have reared its roof so high as the roots of 
that tree, if indeed the church-spires did so. 

On our drive home we passed through Charlestown. 
Stages in abundance were passing the road, burdened 
with passengers inside and out ; also chaises and ba- 
rouches, horsemen and footmen. We are a commu- 
nity of Sabbath-breakers ! 

August 31st. — A drive to Nahant yesterday after- 
noon. Stopped at Rice's, and afterwards walked down 
to the steamboat wharf to see the passengers land. It 
is strange how few good faces there are in the world, 
comparatively to the ugly ones. Scarcely a single 
comely one in all this collection. Then to the hotel. 
Barouches at the doors, and gentlemen and ladies go- 
ing to drive, and gentlemen smoking round the piazza. 
The bar-keeper had one of Benton's mint-drops for a 
bosom - brooch ! It made a very handsome one. I 
crossed the beach for home about sunset. The tide 



1835.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 19 

was so far down as just to give me a passage on the 
hard sand, between the sea and the loose gravel. The 
sea was calm and smooth, with only the surf-waves 
whitening along the beach. Several ladies and gentle- 
men on horseback were cantering and galloping before 
and behind me. 

A hint of a story, — some incident which should 
bring on a general war ; and the chief actor in the 
incident to have something corresponding to the mis- 
chief he had caused. 

September 1th. — A drive to Ipswich with B- 



At the tavern was an old, fat, country major, and an- 
other old fellow, laughing and playing off jokes on 
each other, — one tying a ribbon upon the other's 
hat. One had been a trumpeter to the major's troop. 
Walking about town, we knocked, for a whim, at the 
door of a dark old house, and inquired if Miss Hannah 
Lord lived there. A woman of about thirty came to 
the door, with rather a confused smile, and a disorder 
about the bosom of her dress, as if she had been dis- 
turbed while nursing her child. She answered us with 
great kindness. 

Entering the burial-ground, where some masons 
were building a tomb, we found a good many old 
monuments, and several covered with slabs of red free- 
stone or slate, and with arms sculptured on the slab, 
or an inlaid circle of slate. On one slate gravestone, 
of the Rev. Nathl. Rogers, there was a portrait of that 
worthy, about a third of the size of life, carved in 
relief, with his cloak, band, and wig, in excellent pres- 
ervation, all the buttons of his waistcoat being cut 
with great minuteness, — the minister's nose being on 



20 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1835. 

a level with his cheeks. It was an upright gravestone. 
Returning home, I held a colloquy with a young gir] 
about the right road. She had come out to feed a 
pig, and was a little suspicious that we were making 
fun of her, yet answered us with a shy laugh and 
good-nature, — the pig all the time squealing for his 
dinner. 

Displayed along the walls, and suspended from the 
pillars of the original King's Chapel, were coats of 
arms of the king, the successive governors, and other 
distinguished men. In the pulpit there was an hour- 
glass on a large and elaborate brass stand. The organ 
was surmounted by a gilt crown in the centre, sup- 
ported by a gilt mitre on each side. The governor's 
pew had Corinthian pillars, and crimson damask tap- 
estry. In 1727 it was lined with china, probably tiles. 

Saint Augustin, at mass, charged all that were ac- 
cursed to go out of the church. " Then a dead body 
arose, and went out of the church into the churchyard, 
with a white cloth on its head, and stood there till 
mass was over. It was a former lord of the manor, 
whom a curate had cursed because he refused to pay 
his tithes. A justice also commanded the dead curate 
to arise, and gave him a rod ; and the dead lord, kneel- 
ing, received penance thereby." He then ordered the 
lord to go again to his grave, which he did, and fell 
immediately to ashes. Saint Augustin offered to pray 
for the curate, that he might remain on earth to con- 
firm men in their belief ; but the curate refused, be« 
cause he was in the place of rest. 

A sketch to be given of a modern reformer, — a 



1835.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 21 

type of the extreme doctrines on the subject of slaves, 
cold water, and other such topics. He goes about the 
streets haranguing most eloquently, and is on the point 
of making many converts, when his labors are sud- 
denly interrupted by the appearance of the keeper of 
a mad-house, whence he has escaped. Much may be 
made of this idea. 

A change from a gay young girl to an old woman ; 
the melancholy events, the effects of which have clus- 
tered around her character, and gradually imbued it 
with their influence, till she becomes a lover of sick- 
chambers, taking pleasure in receiving dying breaths 
and in laying out the dead ; also having her mind full 
of funeral reminiscences, and possessing more acquaint- 
ances beneath the burial turf than above it. 

A well-concerted train of events to be thrown into 
confusion by some misplaced circumstance, unsuspected 
till the catastrophe, yet exerting its influence from be- 
ginning to end. 

On the common, at dusk, after a salute from two 
field-pieces, the smoke lay long and heavily on the 
ground, without much spreading beyond the original 
space over which it had gushed from the guns. It 
was about the height of a man. The evening clear, 
but with an autumnal chill. 

The world is so sad and solemn, that things meant 
in jest are liable, by an overpowering influence, to 
become dreadful earnest, — gayly dressed fantasies 
turning to ghostly and black -clad images of them- 
selves. 



22 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1835. 

A story, the hero of which is to be represented as 
naturally capable of deep and strong passion, and 
looking forward to the time when he shall feel pas- 
sionate love, which is to be the great event of his ex- 
istence. But it so chances that he never falls in love f 
and although he gives up the expectation of so doing ? 
and marries calmly, yet it is somewhat sadly, with sen- 
timents merely of esteem for his bride. The lady 
might be one who had loved him early in life, but 
whom then, in his expectation of passionate love, he 
had scorned. 

The scene of a story or sketch to be laid within the 
light of a street-lantern ; the time, when the lamp is 
near going out ; and the catastrophe to be simulta- 
neous with the last flickering gleam. 

The peculiar weariness and depression of spirits 
which is felt after a day wasted in turning over a 
magazine or other light miscellany, different from the 
state of the mind after severe study; because there 
has been no excitement, no difficulties to be overcome, 
but the spirits have evaporated insensibly. 

To represent the process by which sober truth grad- 
ually strips off all the beautiful draperies with which 
imagination has enveloped a beloved object, till from 
an angel she turns out to be a merely ordinary woman. 
This to be done without caricature, perhaps with a 
quiet humor interfused, but the prevailing impression 
to be a sad one. The story might consist of the vari- 
ous alterations in the feelings of the absent lover, 
caused by successive events that display the true char- 
acter of his mistress ; and the catastrophe should take 



1835.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 23 

place at their meeting, when he finds himself equally- 
disappointed in her person ; or the whole spirit of the 
thing may here be reproduced. 

Last evening, from the opposite shore of the North 
River, a view of the town mirrored in the water, which 
was as smooth as glass, with no perceptible tide or agi- 
tation, except a trifling swell and reflux on the sand 9 
although the shadow of the moon danced in it. The 
picture of the town perfect in the water, — towers of 
churches, houses, with here and there a light gleaming 
near the shore above, and more faintly glimmering 
under water, — all perfect, but somewhat more hazy 
and indistinct than the reality. There were many 
clouds flitting about the sky ; and the picture of each 
could be traced in the water, — the ghost of what was 
itself unsubstantial. The rattling of wheels heard 
long and far through the town. Voices of people talk- 
ing on the other side of the river, the tones being so 
distinguishable in all their variations that it seemed 
as if what was there said might be understood ; but it 
was not so. 

Two persons might be bitter enemies through life, 
and mutually cause the ruin of one another, and of 
all that were dear to them. Finally, meeting at the 
funeral of a grandchild, the offspring of a son and 
daughter married without their consent, — and who, 
as well as the child, had been the victims of their ha- 
tred, — they might discover that the supposed ground 
of the quarrel was altogether a mistake, and then be 
wofully reconciled. 

Two persons, by mutual agreement, to make their 



24 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1835. 

wills in each other's favor, then to wait impatiently for 
one another's death, and both to be informed of the 
desired event at the same time. Both, in most joyous 
sorrow, hasten to be present at the funeral, meet, and 
find themselves both hoaxed. 

The story of a man, cold and hard-hearted, and ao» 
knowledging no brotherhood with mankind. At his 
death they might try to dig him a grave, but, at a lit- 
tle space beneath the ground, strike upon a rock, as if 
the earth refused to receive the unnatural son into her 
bosom. Then they would put him into an old sepul 
chre, where the coffins and corpses were all turned to 
dust, and so he would be alone. Then the body would 
petrify ; and he having died in some characteristic act 
and expression, he would seem, through endless ages 
of death, to repel society as in life, and no one would 
be buried in that tomb forever. 

Cannon transformed to church-bells. 

A person, even before middle age, may become 
musty and faded among the people with whom he has 
grown up from childhood ; but, by migrating to a new 
place, he appears fresh with the effect of youth, which 
may be communicated from the impressions of others 
to his own feelings. 

• In an old house, a mysterious knocking might be 
heard on the wall, where had formerly been a door- 
way, now bricked up. 

It might be stated, as the closing circumstance of a 
tale, that the body of one of the characters had been 
petrified, and still existed in that state. 



1835.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 25 

A young man to win the love of a girl, without any 
serious intentions, and to find that in that love, which 
might have been the greatest blessing of his life, he 
had conjured up a spirit of mischief which pursued 
him throughout his whole career, — and this without 
any revengeful purposes on the part of the deserted 
girl. 

Two lovers, or other persons, on the most private 
business, to appoint a meeting in what they supposed 
to be a place of the utmost solitude, and to find it 
thronged with people. 

October 11th. — Some of the oaks are now a deep 
brown red ; others are changed to a light green, which, 
at a little distance, especially in the sunshine, looks 
like the green of early spring. In some trees, differ- 
ent masses of the foliage show each of these hues. 
Some of the walnut-trees have a yet more delicate 
green. Others are of a bright sunny yellow. 

Mr. was married to Miss last Wednes- 
day. Yesterday Mr. Brazer, preaching on the comet, 
observed that not one, probably, of all who heard him, 

would witness its reappearance. Mrs. shed tears. 

Poor soul ! she would be contented to dwell in earthly 
love to all eternity ! 

Some treasure or other thing to be buried, and a 
tree planted directly over the spot, so as to embrace it 
with its roots. 

A tree, tall and venerable, to be said by tradition 
to have been the staff of some famous man, who hap- 
pened to thrust it into the ground, where it took root. 



26 AMERICAN NOTEBOOKS. [1835. 

A fellow without money, having a hundred and sev- 
enty miles to go, fastened a chain and padlock to his 
legs, and lay down to sleep in a field. He was appre- 
hended, and carried gratis to a jail in the town whither 
he desired to go. 

An old volume in a large library, — every one to be 
afraid to unclasp and open it, because it was said to 
be a book of magic. 

A ghost seen by moonlight; when the moon was 
out, it would shine and melt through the airy sub- 
stance of the ghost, as through a cloud. 

Prideaux, Bishop of Worcester, during the sway of 
the Parliament, was forced to support himself and his 
family by selling his household goods. A friend 
asked him, " How doth your lordship ? " " Never 
better in my life," said the Bishop, " only I have too 
great a stomach; for I have eaten that little plate 
which the sequestrators left me. I have eaten a great 
library of excellent books. I have eaten a great deal 
of linen, much of my brass, some of my pewter, and 
now I am come to eat iron ; and what will come next 
I know not." 

A scold and a blockhead, — brimstone and wood,— 
a good match. 

To make one's own reflection in a mirror the sub- 
ject of a story. 

In a dream to wander to some place where may be 
heard the complaints of all the miserable on earth. 



1835.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 27 

Some common quality or circumstance that should 
bring together people the most unlike in all other re- 
spects, and make a brotherhood and sisterhood of 
them, — the rich and the proud finding themselves in 
the same category with the mean and the despised. 

A person to consider himself as the prime mover of 
certain remarkable events, but to discover that his 
actions have not contributed in the least thereto. 
Another person to be the cause, without suspecting it. 

October 25th. — A person or family long desires 
some particular good. At last it comes in such pro- 
fusion as to be the great pest of their lives. 

A man, perhaps with a persuasion that he shall 
make his fortune by some singular means, and with 
an eager longing so to do, while digging or boring for 
water, to strike upon a salt-spring. 

To have one event operate in several places, — as, 
for example, if a man's head were to be cut off in one 
town, men's heads to drop off in several towns. 

Follow out the fantasy of a man taking his life by 
instalments, instead of at one payment, — say ten 
years of life alternately with ten years of suspended 
animation. 

Sentiments in a foreign language, which merely con- 
vey the sentiment without retaining to the reader any 
graces of style or harmony of sound, have somewhat of 
the charm of thoughts in one's own mind that have 
not yet been put into words. No possible words that 



28 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1836. 

we might adapt to them could realize the unshaped 
beauty that they appear to possess. This is the rea- 
son that translations are never satisfactory, — and less 
so, I should think, to one who cannot than to one who 
can pronounce the language. 

A person to be writing a tale, and to find that it 
shapes itself against his intentions; that the charac- 
ters act otherwise than he thought; that unforeseen 
events occur; and a catastrophe comes which he 
strives in vain to avert. It might shadow forth his 
own fate, — he having made himself one of the per- 
sonages. 

It is a singular thing, that, at the distance, say, of 
five feet, the work of the greatest dunce looks just as 
well as that of the greatest genius, ■ — that little space 
being all the distance between genius and stupidity. 

Mrs. Sigourney says, after Coleridge, that " poetry 
has been its own exceeding great reward." For the 
writing, perhaps ; but would it be so for the reading ? 

Four precepts : To break off customs ; to shake off 
spirits ill-disposed ; to meditate on youth ; to do noth» 
ing against one's genius. 

Salem, August 31, 1836. — A walk, yesterday, 
down to the shore, near the hospital. Standing on the 
old grassy battery, that forms a semicircle, and look- 
ing seaward. The sun not a great way above the hori- 
zon, yet so far as to give a very golden brightness, 
when it shone out. Clouds in the vicinity of the sun 5 
and nearly all the rest of the sky covered with clouds 



1836.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 29 

in masses, not a gray uniformity of cloud. A fresh 
breeze blowing from land seaward. If it bad been 
blowing from tbe sea, it would have raised it in heavy 
billows, and caused it to dash high against the rocks. 
But now its surface was not all commoved with bil- 
lows ; there was only roughness enough to take off the 
gleam, and give it the aspect of iron after cooling. 
The clouds above added to the black appearance. A 
few sea-birds were flitting over the water, only visible 
at moments, when they turned their white bosoms to- 
wards me, — as if they were then first created. The 
sunshine had a singular effect. The clouds would in- 
terpose in such a manner that some objects were shaded 
from it, while others were strongly illuminated. Some 
of the islands lay in the shade, dark and gloomy, while 
others were bright and favored spots. The white 
light -house was sometimes very cheerfully marked. 
There was a schooner about a mile from the shore, at 
anchor, laden apparently with lumber. The sea all 
about her had the black, iron aspect which I have de- 
scribed; but the vessel herself was alight. Hull, 
masts, and spars were all gilded, and the rigging was 
made of golden threads. A small white streak of 
foam breaking around the bows, which were towards 
the wind. The shadowiness of the clouds overhead 
made the effect of the sunlight strange, where it fell. 

September. — The elm-trees have golden branches 
intermingled with their green already, and so they had 
on the first of the month. 

To picture the predicament of worldly people, if ad- 
mitted to paradise. 



30 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1836. 

As the architecture of a country always follows the 
earliest structures, American architecture should be a 
refinement of the log-house. The Egyptian is so of 
the cavern and mound ; the Chinese, of the tent ; the 
Gothic, of overarching trees ; the Greek, of a cabin. 

" Though we speak nonsense, God will pick out the 
meaning of it," — an extempore prayer by a New Eng- 
land divine. 

In old times it must have been much less customary 
than now to drink pure water. Walker emphatically 
mentions, among the sufferings of a clergyman's wife 
and family in the Great Rebellion, that they were 
forced to drink water, with crab-apples stamped in it 
to relish it. 

Mr. Kirby, author of a work on the History, Habits, 
and Instincts of Animals, questions whether there may 
not be an abyss of waters within the globe, communi- 
cating with the ocean, and whether the huge animals 
of the Saurian tribe — great reptiles, supposed to be 
exclusively antediluvian, and now extinct — may not 
be inhabitants of it. He quotes a passage from Reve- 
lation, where the creatures under the earth are spoken 
of as distinct from those of the sea, and speaks of a 
Saurian fossil that has been found deep in the subter- 
ranean regions. He thinks, or suggests, that these 
may be the dragons of Scripture. 

The elephant is not particularly sagacious in the 
wild state, but becomes so when tamed. The fox di- 
rectly the contrary, and likewise the wolf. 



1836.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 31 

A modern Jewish adage, — " Let a man clothe him- 
self beneath his ability, his children according to his 
ability, and his wife above his ability." 

It is said of the eagle, that, in however long a flight, 
he is never seen to clap his wings to his sides. He 
seems to govern his movements by the inclination of 
his wings and tail to the wind, as a ship is propelled 
by the action of the wind on her sails. 

In old country-houses in England, instead of glass 
for windows, they used wicker, or fine strips of oak 
disposed checkerwise. Horn was also used. The win- 
dows of princes and great noblemen were of crystal ; 
those of Studley Castle, Holinshed says, of beryl. 
There were seldom chimneys ; and they cooked their 
meats by a fire made against an iron back in the great 
hall. Houses, often of gentry, were built of a heavy 
timber frame, filled up with lath and plaster. People 
slept on rough mats or straw pallets, with a round log 
for a pillow ; seldom better beds than a mattress, with 
a sack of chaff for a pillow. 

October 25th. — A walk yesterday through Dark 
Lane, and home through the village of Dan vers. Land- 
scape now wholly autumnal. Saw an elderly man la- 
den with two dry, yellow, rustling bundles of Indian 
corn-stalks, — a good personification of Autumn. An- 
other man hoeing up potatoes. Rows of white cabbages 
lay ripening. Fields of dry Indian corn. The grass 
has still considerable greenness. Wild rose-bushes de- 
void of leaves, with their deep, bright red seed-vessels. 
Meeting-house in Danvers seen at a distance, with the 
sun shining through the windows of its belfry. Bar- 



32 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1836. 

berry-bushes, — the leaves now of a brown red, still 
juicy and healthy ; very few berries remaining, mostly 
frost-bitten and wilted. All among the yet green grass, 
dry stalks of weeds. The down of thistles occasion- 
ally seen flying through the sunny air. 

In this dismal chamber fame was won. (Salem, 
Union Street.) 

Those who are very difficult in choosing wives seem 
as if they would take none of Nature's ready-made 
works, but want a woman manufactured particularly 
to their order. 

A council of the passengers in a street : called by 
somebody to decide upon some points important to 
him. 

Every individual has a place to fill in the world, 
and is important, in some respects, whether he chooses 
to be so or not. 

A Thanksgiving dinner. All the miserable on earth 
are to be invited, — as the drunkard, the bereaved par- 
ent, the ruined merchant, the broken-hearted lover, 
the poor widow, the old man and woman who have 
outlived their generation, the disappointed author, the 
wounded, sick, and broken soldier, the diseased per- 
son, the infidel, the man with an evil conscience, lit- 
tle orphan children or children of neglectful parents, 
shall be admitted to the table, and many others. The 
giver of the feast goes out to deliver his invitations,, 
Some of the guests he meets in the streets, some he 
knocks for at the doors of their houses. The descrip- 



1836.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 33 

tion must be rapid. But who must be the giver of the 
feast, and what his claims to preside ? A man who 
has never found out what he is fit for, who has un- 
settled aims or objects in life, and whose mind gnaws 
him, making him the sufferer of many kinds of mis- 
ery. He should meet some pious, old, sorrowful per- 
son, with more outward calamities than any other, and 
invite him, with a reflection that piety would make all 
that miserable company truly thankful. 

Merry, in " merry England," does not mean mirth- 
ful ; but is corrupted from an old Teutonic word sig- 
nifying famous or renowned. 

In an old London newspaper, 1678, there is an ad- 
vertisement, among other goods at auction, of a black 
girl, about fifteen years old, to be sold. 

We sometimes congratulate ourselves at the moment 
of waking from a troubled dream : it may be so the 
moment after death. 

The race of mankind to be swept away, leaving all 
their cities and works. Then another human pair to 
be placed in the world, with native intelligence like 
Adam and Eve, but knowing nothing of their prede- 
cessors or of their own nature and destiny. They, 
perhaps, to be described as working out this knowledge 
by their sympathy with what they saw, and by their 
own feelings. 

Memorials of the family of Hawthorne in the church 
of the village of Dundry, Somersetshire, England. The 
church is ancient and small, and has a prodigiously 



34 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1836. 

high tower of more modern date, being erected in the 
time of Edward IV. It serves as a landmark for an 
amazing extent of country. 

A singular fact, that, when man is a brute, he is 
the most sensual and loathsome of all brutes. 

A snake taken into a man's stomach and nourished 
there from fifteen years to thirty-five, tormenting him 
most horribly. A type of envy or some other evil pas- 
sion. 

A sketch illustrating the imperfect compensations 
which time makes for its devastations on the person, 
— giving a wreath of laurel while it causes baldness, 
honors for infirmities, wealth for a broken constitu- 
tion, — and at last, when a man has everything that 
seems desirable, death seizes him. To contrast the 
man who has thus reached the summit of ambition 
with the ambitious youth. 

Walking along the track of the railroad, I observed 
a place where the workmen had bored a hole through 
the solid rock, in order to blast it ; but, striking a 
spring of water beneath the rock, it gushed up through 
the hole. It looked as if the water were contained 
within the rock. 

A Fancy Ball, in which the prominent American 
writers should appear, dressed in character. 

A lament for life's wasted sunshine. 

A new classification of society to be instituted. In* 



1836.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 35 

stead of rich and poor, high and low, they are to be 
classed, — First, by their sorrows : for instance, when- 
ever there are any, whether in fair mansion or hovel, 
who are mourning the loss of relations and friends, 
and who wear black, whether the cloth be coarse or 
superfine, they are to make one class. Secondly, all 
who have the same maladies, whether they lie under 
damask canopies or on straw pallets or in the wards of 
hospitals, they are to form one class. Thirdly, all who 
are guilty of the same sins, whether the world knows 
them or not ; whether they languish in prison, looking 
forward to the gallows, or walk honored among men, 
they also form a class. Then proceed to generalize 
and classify the whole world together, as none can 
claim utter exemption from either sorrow, sin, or dis- 
ease ; and if they could, yet Death, like a great par- 
ent, comes and sweeps them all through one darksome 
portal, — all his children. 

Fortune to come like a pedlar with his goods, — as 
wreaths of laurel, diamonds, crowns ; selling them, but 
asking for them the sacrifice of health, of integrity, 
perhaps of life in the battle-field, and of the real pleas- 
ures of existence. Who would buy, if the price were 
to be paid down ? 

The dying exclamation of the Emperor Augustus, 
" Has it not been well acted ? " An essay on the 
misery of being always under a mask. A veil may 
be needful, but never a mask. Instances of people 
who wear masks in all classes of society, and never 
take them off even in the most familiar moments, 
though sometimes they may chance to slip aside. 



36 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1836. 

The various guises under which Euin makes his 
approaches to his victims : to the merchant, in the 
guise of a merchant offering speculations ; to the young 
heir, a jolly companion; to the maiden, a sighing, 
sentimentalist lover. 

What were the contents of the burden of Christian 
in the " Pilgrim's Progress " ? He must have been 
taken for a pedlar travelling with his pack. 

To think, as the sun goes down, what events have 
happened in the course of the day, — events of or- 
dinary occurrence : as, the clocks have struck, the 
dead have been buried. 

Curious to imagine what murmurings and discon- 
tent would be excited, if any of the great so-called 
calamities of human beings were to be abolished, — 
as, for instance, death. 

Trifles to one are matters of life and death to an- 
other. As, for instance, a farmer desires a brisk 
breeze to winnow his grain ; and mariners, to blow 
them out of the reach of pirates. 

A recluse, like myself, or a prisoner, to measure 
time by the progress of sunshine through his cham- 
ber. 

Would it not be wiser for people to rejoice at all 
that they now sorrow for, and vice versa f To put on 
bridal garments at funerals, and mourning at wed- 
dings ? For their friends to condole with them when 
they attained riches and honor, as only so much care 
added? 



1836.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 37 

If in a village it were a custom to hang a funeral 
garland or other token of death on a house where 
some one had died, and there to let it remain till a 
death occurred elsewhere, and then to hang that same 
garland over the other house, it would have, methinks, 
a strong effect. 

No fountain so small but that Heaven may be im- 
aged in its bosom. 

Fame ! Some very humble persons in a town may 
be said to possess it, — as, the penny-post, the town- 
crier, the constable, — and they are known to every- 
body ; while many richer, more intellectual, worthier 
persons are unknown by the majority of their fellow- 
citizens. Something analogous in the world at large. 

The ideas of people in general are not raised higher 
than the roofs of the houses. All their interests ex- 
tend over the earth's surface in a layer of that thick- 
ness. The meeting-house steeple reaches out of their 
sphere. 

Nobody will use other people's experience, nor have 
any of his own till it is too late to use it. 

Two lovers to plan the building of a pleasure-house 
on a certain spot of ground, but various seeming acci- 
dents prevent it. Once they find a group of miserable 
children there ; once it is the scene where crime is 
plotted ; at last the dead body of one of the lovers 
or of a dear friend is found there ; and, instead of a 
pleasure-house, they build a marble tomb. The moral, 
*— that there is no place on earth fit for the site of a 



88 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1836. 

pleasure-house, because there is no spot that may not 
have been saddened by human grief, stained by crime, 
or hallowed by death. It might be three friends who 
plan it, instead of two lovers ; and the dearest one 
dies. 

Comfort for childless people. A married couple 
with ten children have been the means of bringing 
about ten funerals. 

A blind man on a dark night carried a torch, in 
order that people might see him, and not run against 
him, and direct him how to avoid dangers. 

To picture a child's (one of four or five years old) 
reminiscences at sunset of a long summer's day, — his 
first awakening, his studies, his sports, his little fits of 
passion, perhaps a whipping, etc. 

The blind man's walk. 

To picture a virtuous family, the different members 
examples of virtuous dispositions in their way ; then 
introduce a vicious person, and trace out the relations 
that arise between him and them, and the manner in 
which all are affected. 

A man to flatter himself with the idea that he would 
not be guilty of some certain wickedness, — as, for in- 
stance, to yield to the personal temptations of the 
Devil, — yet to find, ultimately, that he was at that 
very time committing that same wickedness. 

What would a man do, if he were compelled to live 



1836.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 39 

always in the sultry heat of society, and could never 
bathe himself in cool solitude ? 

A girl's lover to be slain and buried in her flower- 
garden, and the earth levelled over him. That partic- 
ular spot, which she happens to plant with some pe- 
culiar variety of flowers, produces them of admirable 
splendor, beauty, and perfume ; and she delights, with 
an indescribable impulse, to wear them in her bosom, 
and scent her chamber with them. Thus the classic 
fantasy would be realized, of dead people transformed 
to flowers. 

Objects seen by a magic-lantern reversed. A street, 
or other location, might be presented, where there 
would be opportunity to bring forward all objects of 
worldly interest, and thus much pleasant satire might 
be the result. 

The Abyssinians, after dressing their hair, sleep 
with their heads in a forked stick, in order not to dis- 
compose it. 

At the battle of Edge Hill, October 23, 1642, Cap- 
tain John Smith, a soldier of note, Captain Lieutenant 
to Lord James Stuart's horse, with only a groom, at- 
tacked a Parliament officer, three cuirassiers, and 
three arquebusiers, and rescued the royal standard, 
which they had taken and were guarding. Was this 
the Virginian Smith? 

Stephen Gowans supposed that the bodies of Adam 
and Eve were clothed in robes of light, which van- 
ished after their sin. 



40 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1836. 

Lord Chancellor Clare, towards the close of his life, 
went to a village church, where he might not be known, 
to partake of the Sacrament. 

A missionary to the heathen in a great city, to de- 
scribe his labors in the manner of a foreign mission. 

In the tenth century, mechanism of organs so 
clumsy, that one in Westminster Abbey, with four 
hundred pipes, required twenty-six bellows and sev- 
enty stout men. First organ ever known in Europe re- 
ceived by King Pepin, from the Emperor Constantine, 
in 757. Water boiling was kept in a reservoir under 
the pipes ; and, the keys being struck, the valves 
opened, and steam rushed through with noise. The 
secret of working them thus is now lost. Then came 
bellows organs, first used by Louis le De*bonnaire. 

After the siege of Antwerp, the children played 
marbles in the streets with grape and cannon shot. 

A shell, in falling, buries itself in the earth, and, 
when it explodes, a large pit is made by the earth be- 
ing blown about in all directions, — large enough, some- 
times, to hold three or four cart-loads of earth. The 
holes are circular. 

A French artillery-man being buried in his military 
cloak on the ramparts, a shell exploded, and unburied 
him. 

In the Netherlands, to form hedges, young trees are 
interwoven into a sort of lattice- work ; and, in time, 
they grow together at the point of junction, so that 
the fence is all of one piece. 



1836.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 41 

To show the effect of gratified revenge. As an in- 
stance, merely, suppose a woman sues her lover for 
breach of promise, and gets the money by instalments, 
through a long series of years. At last, when the mis- 
erable victim were utterly trodden down, the triumpher 
would have become a very devil of evil passions, — 
they having overgrown his whole nature ; so that a 
far greater evil would have come upon himself than 
on his victim. 

Anciently, when long-buried bodies were found un- 
decayed in the grave, a species of sanctity was attrib- 
uted to them. 

Some chimneys of ancient halls used to be swept by 
having a culverin fired up them. 

At Leith, in 1711, a glass bottle was blown of the 
capacity of two English bushels. 

The buff and blue of the Union were adopted by 
Fox and the Whig party in England. The Prince of 
Wales wore them. 

In 1621, a Mr. Copinger left a certain charity, an 
almhouse, of which four poor persons were to partake, 
after the death of his eldest son and his wife. It was 
a tenement and yard. The parson, headboroughs, and 
his iive other sons were to appoint the persons. At 
the time specified, however, all but one of his sons 
were dead ; and he was in such poor circumstances 
that he obtained the benefit of the charity for himself, 
as one of the four. 



42 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1836. 

A town clerk arranges the publishments that are 
given in, according to his own judgment. 

To make a story from Robert Raikes seeing dirty 
children at play, in the streets of London, and inquir- 
ing of a woman about them. She tells him that on 
Sundays, when they were not employed, they were a 
great deal worse, making the streets like hell ; playing 
at church, etc. He was therefore induced to employ 
women at a shilling to teach them on Sundays, and 
thus Sunday-schools were established. 

To represent the different departments of the United 
States government by village functionaries. The War 
Department by watchmen, the law by constables, the 
merchants by a variety store, etc. 

At the accession of Bloody Mary, a man, coming 
into a house, sounded three times with his mouth, as 
with a trumpet, and then made proclamation to the 
family. A bonfire was built, and little children were 
made to carry wood to it, that they might remember 
the circumstance in old age. Meat and drink were 
provided at the bonfires. 

To describe a boyish combat with snowballs, and 
the victorious leader to have a statue of snow erected 
to him. A satire on ambition and fame to be made 
out of this idea. It might be a child's story. 

Our body to be possessed by two different spirits ; 
so that half of the visage shall express one mood, and 
the other half another. 



1836.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 43 

An old English sea-captain desires to have a fast- 
sailing ship, to keep a good table, and to sail between 
the tropics without making land. 

A rich man left by will his mansion and estate to a 
poor couple. They remove into it, and find there a 
darksome servant, whom they are forbidden by will to 
turn away. He becomes a torment to them ; and, in 
the finale, he turns out to be the former master of the 
estate. 

Two persons to be expecting some occurrence, and 
watching for the two principal actors in it, and to find 
that the occurrence is even then passing, and that 
they themselves are the two actors. 

There is evil in every human heart, which may re- 
main latent, perhaps, through the whole of life ; but 
circumstances may rouse it to activity. To imagine 
such circumstances. A woman, tempted to be false 
to her husband, apparently through mere whim, — or 
a young man to feel an instinctive thirst for blood, 
and to commit murder. This appetite may be traced 
in the popularity of criminal trials. The appetite 
might be observed first in a child, and then traced 
upwards, manifesting itself in crimes suited to every 
stage of life. 

The good deeds in an evil life, — the generous, no- 
ble, and excellent actions done by people habitually 
wicked, — to ask what is to become of them. 

A satirical article might be made out of the idea 
of an imaginary museum, containing such articles as 



44 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1836. 

Aaron's rod, the petticoat of General Hawion, the pis- 
tol with which Benton shot Jackson, — and then a di- 
orama, consisting of political or other scenes, or done 
in wax- work. The idea to be wrought out and ex- 
tended. Perhaps it might be the museum of a de- 
ceased old man. 

An article might be made respecting various kinds 
of ruin, — ruin as regards property, — ruin of health, 
— ruin of habits, as drunkenness and all kinds of de- 
bauchery, — ruin of character, while prosperous in 
other respects, — ruin of the soul. Ruin, perhaps, 
might be personified as a demon, seizing its victims 
by various holds. 

An article on fire, on smoke. Diseases of the mind 
and soul, — even more common than bodily diseases. 

Tarleton, of the Revolution, is said to have been one 
of the two handsomest men in Europe, — the Prince 
of Wales, afterwards George IV., being the other. 
Some authorities, however, have represented him as 
ungainly in person and rough in manners. Tarleton 
was originally bred for the law, but quitted law for 
the army early in life. He was son to a mayor of 
Liverpool, born in 1754, of ancient family. He 
wrote his own memoirs after returning from America. 
Afterwards in Parliament. Never afterwards distin- 
guished in arms. Created baronet in 1818, and died 
childless in 1833. Thought he was not sufficiently 
honored among more modern heroes. Lost part of 
his right hand in battle of Guilford Court House. A 
man of pleasure in England. 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 45 

It would be a good idea for a painter to paint a 
picture of a great actor, representing him in several 
different characters of one scene, — Iago and Othello, 
for instance. 

3faine, July 5, 1837. — Here I am, settled since 
night before last with B , and living very singu- 
larly. He leads a bachelor's life in his paternal man- 
sion, only a small part of which is occupied by a fam- 
ily who serve him. He provides his own breakfast 
and supper, and occasionally his dinner ; though this 
is oftener, I believe, taken at a hotel, or an eating- 
house, or with some of his relatives. I am his guest, 
and my presence makes no alteration in his way of life. 
Our fare, thus far, has consisted of bread, butter, and 
cheese, crackers, herrings, boiled eggs, coffee, milk, and 
claret wine. He has another inmate, in the person of 
a queer little Frenchman, who has his breakfast, tea, 
and lodging here, and finds his dinner elsewhere. 

Monsieur S does not appear to be more than 

twenty-one years old, — a diminutive figure, with eyes 
askew, and otherwise of an ungainly physiognomy ; 
he is ill-dressed also, in a coarse blue coat, thin cotton 
pantaloons, and unbrushed boots: altogether with as 
little of French coxcombry as can well be imagined, 
though with something of the monkey aspect insepara- 
ble from a little Frenchman. He is, nevertheless, an 
intelligent and well-informed man, apparently of ex- 
tensive reading in his own language, — a philosopher, 
B tells me, and an infidel. His insignificant per- 
sonal appearance stands in the way of his success, 
and prevents him from receiving the respect which is 
really due to his talents and acquirements, wherefore 
he is bitterly dissatisfied with the country and its in- 



46 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

habitants, and often expresses his feelings to B- 



(who has gained his confidence to a certain degree) in 
very strong terms. 

Thus here are three characters, each with something 
out of the common way, living together somewhat like 
monks. B , our host, combines more high and ad- 
mirable qualities, of that sort which make up a gentle- 
man, than any other that I have met with. Polished, 
yet natural, frank, open, and straightforward, yet with 
a delicate feeling for the sensitiveness of his compan- 
ions ; of excellent temper and warm heart ; well ac- 
quainted with the world, with a keen faculty of ob- 
servation, which he has had many opportunities of 
exercising, and never varying from a code of honor 
and principle which is really nice and rigid in its way. 
There is a sort of philosophy developing itself in him 
which will not impossibly cause him to settle down in 
this or some other equally singular course of life. He 
seems almost to have made up his mind never to be 
married, which I wonder at ; for he has strong affec- 
tions, and is fond both of women and children. 

The little Frenchman impresses me very strongly, 
too, — so lonely as he is here, struggling against the 
world, with bitter feelings in his breast, and yet talk- 
ing with the vivacity and gayety of his nation ; mak- 
ing this his home from darkness to daylight, and 
enjoying here what little domestic comfort and confi- 
dence there is for him ; and then going about the live- 
long day, teaching French to blockheads who sneer at 
him, and returning at about ten o'clock in the evening 
(for I was wrong in saying he supped here, — he eats 
no supper) to his solitary room and bed. Before re- 
tiring, he goes to B 's bedside, and, if he finds him 

awake, stands talking French, expressing his dislike of 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 47 

the Americans, — " Je hais, je hais les Yankees ! " — 
thus giving vent to the stifled bitterness of the whole 
day. In the morning I hear him getting up early, at 
sunrise or before, humming to himself, scuffling about 
his chamber with his thick boots, and at last taking his 
departure for a solitary ramble till breakfast. Then 
he comes in, cheerful and vivacious enough, eats pretty ' 
heartily, and is off again, singing French chansons as 
he goes down the gravel-walk. The poor fellow has 

nobody to sympathize with him but B , and thus 

a singular connection is established between two ut- 
terly different characters. 

Then here is myself, who am likewise a queer char- 
acter in my way, and have come to spend a week or 
two with my friend of half a lifetime, — the longest 
space, probably, that we are ever destined to spend to- 
gether ; for Fate seems preparing changes for both of 
us. My circumstances, at least, cannot long continue 

as they are and have been ; and B , too, stands 

between high prosperity and utter ruin. 

I think I should soon become strongly attached to 
our way of life, so independent and untroubled by the 
forms and restrictions of society. The house is very 
pleasantly situated, — half a mile distant from where 
the town begins to be thickly settled, and on a swell 
of land, with the road running at a distance of fifty 
yards, and a grassy tract and a gravel-walk between. 
Beyond the road rolls the Kennebec, here two or three 
hundred yards wide. Putting my head out of the 
window, I can see it flowing steadily along straight- 
way between wooded banks ; but arriving nearly oppo- 
site the house, there is a large and level sand island in 
the middle of the stream ; and just below the island 
the current is further interrupted by the works of the 



48 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

mill-dam, which is perhaps half finished, yet still in so 
rude a state that it looks as much like the ruins of a 
dam destroyed by the spring freshets as like the foun- 
dations of a dam yet to be. Irishmen and Canadians 
toil at work on it, and the echoes of their hammering 
and of the voices come across the river and up to this 
window. Then there is a sound of the wind among 
the trees round the house ; and, when that is silent, 
the calm, full, distant voice of the river becomes audi- 
ble. Looking downward thither, I see the rush of the 
current, and mark the different eddies, with here and 
there white specks or streaks of foam; and often a log 
comes floating on, glistening in the sun, as it rolls 
over among the eddies, having voyaged, for aught I 
know, hundreds of miles from the wild upper sources 
of the river, passing down, down, between lines of for- 
est, and sometimes a rough clearing, till here it floats 
by cultivated banks, and will soon pass by the vil- 
lage. Sometimes a long raft of boards comes along, 
requiring the nicest skill in navigating it through the 
narrow passage left by the mill-dam. Chaises and 
wagons occasionally go over the road, the riders all 
giving a passing glance at the dam, or perhaps alight- 
ing to examine it more fully, and at last departing 
with ominous shakes of the head as to the result of the 
enterprise. My position is so far retired from the 
river and mill-dam, that, though the latter is really 
rather a scene, yet a sort of quiet seems to be diffused 
over the whole. Two or three times a day this quiet 
is broken by the sudden thunder from a quarry, where 
the workmen are blasting rocks ; and a peal of thun- 
der sounds strangely in such a green, sunny, and quiet 
landscape, with the blue sky brightening the river. 
I have not seen much of the people. There have 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 49 

been, however, several incidents which amused me, 
though scarcely worth telling. A passionate tavern- 
keeper, quick as a flash of gunpowder, a nervous man, 
and showing in his demeanor, it seems, a conscious- 
ness of his infirmity of temper. I was a witness of a 
scuffle of his with a drunken guest. The tavern- 
keeper, after they were separated, raved like a mad- 
man, and in a tone of voice having a drolly pathetic or 
lamentable sound mingled with its rage, as if he were 
lifting up his voice to weep. Then he jumped into a 
chaise which was standing by, whipped up the horse, 
and drove off rapidly, as if to give his fury vent in 
that way. 

On the morning of the Fourth of July, two print- 
er's apprentice-lads, nearly grown, dressed in jackets 
and very tight pantaloons of check, tight as their 
skins, so that they looked like harlequins or circus- 
clowns, yet appeared to think themselves in perfect 
propriety, with a very calm and quiet assurance of the 
admiration of the town. A common fellow, a carpen- 
ter, who, on the strength of political partisanship, 

asked B 's assistance in cutting out great letters 

from play-bills in order to print " Martin Van Bur en 

Forever " on a flag ; but B refused. B seems 

to be considerably of a favorite with the lower orders, 
especially with the Irishmen and French Canadians, 
— the latter accosting him in the street, and asking 
his assistance as an interpreter in making their bar- 
gains for work. 

I meant to dine at the hotel with B to-day ; but 

having returned to the house, leaving him to do some 
business in the village, I found myself unwilling to 
move when the dinner-hour approached, and therefore 
dined very well on bread, cheese, and eggs. Nothing 



50 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

of much interest takes place. We live very comfort- 
ably in our bachelor establishment on a cold shoulder 
of mutton, with ham and smoked beef and boiled 
eggs ; and as to drinkables, we had both claret and 
brown sherry on the dinner-table to-day. Last even- 
ing we had a long literary and philosophical conversa- 
tion with Monsieur S . He is rather remarkably 

well-informed for a man of his age, and seems to have 
very just notions on ethics, etc., though damnably per- 
verted as to religion. It is strange to hear philosophy 
of any sort from such a boyish figure. " We philos- 
ophers," he is fond of saying, to distinguish himself 
and his brethren from the Christians. One of his odd- 
ities is, that, while steadfastly maintaining an opin- 
ion that he is a very small and slow eater, and that 
we, in common with other Yankees, eat immensely and 
fast, he actually eats both faster and longer than we 

do, and devours, as B avers, more victuals than 

both of us together. 

Saturday, July 8th. — Yesterday afternoon, a stroll 

with B up a large brook, he fishing for trout, and 

I looking on. The brook runs through a valley, on 
one side bordered by a high and precipitous bank ; on 
the other there is an interval, and then the bank rises 
upward and upward into a high hill, with gorges and 
ravines separating one summit from another, and here 
and there are bare places, where the rain-streams have 
washed away the grass. The brook is bestrewn with 
stones, some bare, some partially moss-grown, and 
sometimes so huge as — once at least — to occupy al- 
most the whole breadth of the current. Amongst 
these the stream brawls, only that this word does not 
express its good-natured voice, and " murmur " is too 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 51 

quiet. It sings along, sometimes smooth, with the 
pebbles visible beneath, sometimes rushing dark and 
swift, eddying and whitening past some rock, or un- 
derneath the hither or the farther bank ; and at these 

places B cast his line, and sometimes drew out a 

trout, small, not more than five or six inches long s 
The farther we went up the brook, the wilder it grew. 
The opposite bank was covered with pines and hem- 
locks, ascending high upwards, black and solemn. 
One knew that there must be almost a precipice be- 
hind, yet we could not see it. At the foot you could 
spy, a little way within the darksome shade, the roots 
and branches of the trees ; but soon all sight was ob- 
structed amidst the trunks. On the hither side, at first 
the bank was bare, then fringed with alder-bushes, 
bending and dipping into the stream, which, farther 
on, flowed through the midst of a forest of maple, 
beech, and other trees, its course growing wilder and 
wilder as we proceeded. For a considerable distance 
there was a causeway, built long ago of logs, to drag 
lumber upon ; it was now decayed and rotten, a red 
decay, sometimes sunken down in the midst, here and 
there a knotty trunk stretching across, apparently 
sound. The sun being now low towards the west, a 
pleasant gloom and brightness were diffused through 
the forest, spots of brightness scattered upon the 
branches, or thrown down in gold upon the last year's 
leaves among the trees. At last we came to where a 
dam had been built across the brook many years ago, 
and was now gone to ruin, so as to make the spot look 
more solitary and wilder than if man had never left 
vestiges of his toil there. It was a framework of logs, 
with a covering of plank sufficient to obstruct the on- 
ward flow of the brook ; but it found its way past the 



52 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

side, and came foaming and struggling along among 
scattered rocks. Above the dam there was a broad 
and deep pool, one side of which was bordered by a 
precipitous wall of rocks, as smooth as if hewn out 
and squared, and piled one upon another, above which 
rose the forest. On the other side there was still a 
gently shelving bank, and the shore was covered with 
tall trees, among which I particularly remarked a 
stately pine, wholly devoid of bark, rising white in 
aged and majestic ruin, thrusting out its barkless arms. 
It must have stood there in death many years, its own 
ghost. Above the dam the brook flowed through the 
forest, a glistening and babbling water-path, illumi- 
nated by the sun, which sent its rays almost straight 
along its course. It was as lovely and wild and peace- 
ful as it could possibly have been a hundred years 
ago ; and the traces of labors of men long departed 
added a deeper peace to it. I bathed in the pool, 
and then pursued my way down beside the brook, 
growing dark with a pleasant gloom, as the sun sank 

and the water became more shadowy. B says 

that there was formerly a tradition that the Indians 
used to go up this brook, and return, after a brief ab- 
sence, with large masses of lead, which they sold at 
the trading-stations in Augusta ; whence there has al- 
ways been an idea that there is a lead-mine here- 
abouts. Great toadstools were under the trees, and 
some small ones as yellow and almost the size of a 
half -broiled yolk of an egg. Strawberries were scat- 
tered along the brookside. 

Dined at the hotel or Mansion House to-day. Men 
were playing checkers in the parlor. The Marshal of 
Maine, a corpulent, jolly fellow, famed for humor. A 
passenger left by the stage, hiring an express onward, 
A bottle of champagne was quaffed at the bar. 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 53 

July 9th. — Went with B to pay a visit to the 

shanties of the Irish and Canadians. He says that 
they sell and exchange these small houses among 
themselves continually. They may be built in three 
or four days, and are valued at four or five dollars. 
When the turf that is piled against the walls of some 
of them becomes covered with grass, it makes quite a 
picturesque object. It was almost dusk — just can- 
dle-lighting time — when we visited them. A young 
Frenchwoman, with a baby in her arms, came to the 
door of one of them, smiling, and looking pretty and 
happy. Her husband, a dark, black-haired, lively lit- 
tle fellow, caressed the child, laughing and singing to 
it ; and there was a red-bearded Irishman, who like- 
wise fondled the little brat. Then we could hear them 
within the hut, gabbling merrily, and could see them 
moving about briskly in the candle-light, through the 
window and open door. An old Irishwoman sat in 
the door of another hut, under the influence of an 
extra dose of rum, — she being an old lady of some- 
what dissipated habits. She called to B , and be- 
gan to talk to him about her resolution not to give 
up her house : for it is his design to get her out of it. 
She is a true virago, and, though somewhat restrained 
by respect for him, she evinced a sturdy design to re- 
main here through the winter, or at least for a con- 
siderable time longer. He persisting, she took her 
stand in the doorway of the hut, and stretched out her 
fist in a very Amazonian attitude. " Nobody," quoth 
she, " shall drive me out of this house, till my praties 
are out of the ground." Then would she wheedle and 
laugh and blarney, beginning in a rage, and ending as 
if she had been in jest. Meanwhile her husband stood 
by very quiet, occasionally trying to still her ; but it 



54 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

is to be presumed, that, after our departure, they came 
to blows, it being a custom with the Irish husbands 
and wives to settle their disputes with blows ; and it 
is said the woman often proves the better man. The 
different families also have battles, and occasionally 
the Irish fight with the Canadians. The latter, how- 
ever, are much the more peaceable, never quarrelling 
among themselves, and seldom with their neighbors. 
They are frugal, and often go back to Canada with 

considerable sums of money. B has gained much 

influence both with the Irish and the French, — with 
the latter, by dint of speaking to them in their own 
language. He is the umpire in their disputes, and 
their adviser, and they look up to him as a protector 
and patron-friend. I have been struck to see with 
what careful integrity and wisdom he manages matters 
among them, hitherto having known him only as a free 
and gay young man. He appears perfectly to under- 
stand their general character, of which he gives no 
very flattering description. In these huts, less than 
twenty feet square, he tells me that upwards of twenty 
people have sometimes been lodged. 

A description of a young lady who had formerly 
been insane, and now felt the approach of a new fit of 
madness. She had been out to ride, had exerted her- 
self much, and had been very vivacious. On her re- 
turn, she sat down in a thoughtful and despondent 
attitude, looking very sad, but one of the loveliest ob- 
jects that ever were seen. The family spoke to her, 
but she made no answer, nor took the least notice; 
but still sat like a statue in her chair, — a statue of 
melancholy and beauty. At last they led her away to 
her chamber. 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 55 

We went to meeting this forenoon. I saw nothing 
remarkable, nnless a little girl in the next pew to us, 
three or four years old, who fell asleep, with her head 
in the lap of her maid, and looked very pretty : a pic- 
ture of sleeping innocence. 

July 11th, Tuesday. — A drive with B to Hal- 
lo well, yesterday, where we dined, and afterwards to 
Gardiner. The most curious object in this latter place 

was the elegant new mansion of . It stands on 

the site of his former dwelling, which was destroyed 
by fire. The new building was estimated to cost about 
thirty thousand dollars ; but twice as much has al- 
ready been expended, and a great deal more will be 
required to complete it. It is certainly a splendid 
structure ; the material, granite from the vicinity. At 
the angles it has small, circular towers ; the portal is 
lofty and imposing. Relatively to the general style of 
domestic architecture in our country, it well deserves 
the name of castle or palace. Its situation, too, is 
fine, far retired from the public road, and attainable 
by a winding carriage-drive; standing amid fertile 
fields, and with large trees in the vicinity. There is 
also a beautiful view from the mansion, adown the 
Kennebec. 

Beneath some of the large trees we saw the remains 
of circular seats, whereupon the family used to sit be- 
fore the former house was burned down. There was 
no one now in the vicinity of the place, save a man 
and a yoke of oxen ; and what he was about, I did not 

ascertain. Mr. at present resides in a small 

dwelling, little more than a cottage, beside the main 
road, not far from the gateway which gives access to 
his palace. 



56 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

At Gardiner, on the wharf, I witnessed the starting 
of the steamboat New England for Boston. There 
was quite a collection of people, looking on or taking 
leave of passengers, — the steam puffing, — stages ar- 
riving, full-freighted with ladies and gentlemen. A 
man was one moment too late ; but running along the 
gunwale of a mud-scow, and jumping into a skiff, he 
was put on board by a black fellow. The dark cabin, 
wherein, descending from the sunshiny deck, it was 
difficult to discern the furniture, looking-glasses, and 
mahogany wainscoting. I met two old college ac- 
quaintances, — O , who was going to Boston, and 

B , with whom we afterwards drank a glass of 

wine at the hotel. 

B -, Mons. S , and myself continue to live in 

the same style as heretofore. We appear mutually to 

be very well pleased with each other. Mons. S 

displays many comical qualities, and manages to in- 
sure us several hearty laughs every morning and even- 
ing, — those being the seasons when we meet. I am 
going to take lessons from him in the pronunciation 
of French. Of female society I see nothing. The 
only petticoat that comes within our premises apper- 
tains to Nancy, the pretty, dark-eyed maid-servant of 
the man who lives in the other part of the house. 

On the road from Hallowell to Augusta we saw 
little booths, in two places, erected on the roadside, 
where boys offered beer, apples, etc., for sale. We 
passed an Irishwoman with a child in her arms, and a 
heavy bundle, and afterwards an Irishman with a light 
bundle, sitting by the highway. They were husband 

and wife ; and B says that an Irishman and his 

wife, on their journeys, do not usually walk side by 
side, but that the man gives the woman the heaviest 
burden to carry, and walks on lightly ahead ! 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 57 

A thought conies into my mind : Which sort of 
house excites the most contemptuous feelings in the 
beholder, — such a house as Mr. 's, all circum- 
stances considered, or the board-built and turf-but- 
tressed hovels of these wild Irish, scattered about as 
if they had sprung up like mushrooms, in the dells 
and gorges, and along the banks of the river ? Mush- 
rooms, by the way, spring up where the roots of an 
old tree are hidden under the ground. 

Thursday, July IQth. — Two small Canadian boys 
came to our house yesterday, with strawberries to sell. 
It sounds strangely to hear children bargaining in 
French on the borders of Yankee-land. Among other 
languages spoken hereabouts must be reckoned the 
wild Irish. Some of the laborers on the mill-dam can 
speak nothing else. The intermixture of foreigners 
sometimes gives rise to quarrels between them and the 
natives. As we were going to the village yesterday 
afternoon, we witnessed the beginning of a quarrel 
between a Canadian and a Yankee, — the latter accus^ 

ing the former of striking his oxen. B thrust 

himself between and parted them ; but they after- 
wards renewed their fray, and the Canadian, I be- 
lieve, thrashed the Yankee soundly — for which he 
had to pay twelve dollars. Yet he was but a little 
fellow. 

Coming to the Mansion House about supper-time, 
we found somewhat of a concourse of people, the Gov- 
ernor and Council being in session on the subject of 
the disputed territory. The British have lately im- 
prisoned a man who was sent to take the census ; and 
the Mainiacs are much excited on the subject. They 
wish the Governor to order out the militia at once, 



58 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

and take possession of the territory with the strong 
hand. There was a British army-captain at the Man- 
sion House ; and an idea was thrown out that it would 
be as well to seize upon him as a hostage. I would, 
for the joke's sake, that it had been done. Person- 
ages at the tavern: the Governor, somewhat stared 
after as he walked through the bar-room ; Councillors 
seated about, sitting on benches near the bar, or on 
the stoop along the front of the house ; the Adjutant- 
General of the State ; two young Blue-Noses, from 
Canada or the Provinces ; a gentleman " thumbing his 
hat " for liquor, or perhaps playing off the trick of the 
" honest landlord " on some stranger. The decanters 
and wine-bottles on the move, and the beer and soda 
founts pouring out continual streams, with a whiz. 
Stage-drivers, etc., asked to drink with the aristoc- 
racy, and my host treating and being treated. Rubi- 
cund faces ; breaths odorous of brandy-and-water. Oc- 
casionally the pop of a champagne cork. 

Returned home, and took a lesson in French of 
Mons. S . I like him very much, and have sel- 
dom met with a more honest, simple, and apparently 
so well-principled a man ; which good qualities I im- 
pute to his being, by the father's side, of German 
blood. He looks more like a German — or, as he 
says, like a Swiss — than a Frenchman, having very 
light hair and a light complexion, and not a French 
expression. He is a vivacious little fellow, and won- 
derfully excitable to mirth ; and it is truly a sight to 
see him laugh ; — every feature partakes of his move- 
ment, and even his whole body shares in it, as he rises 
and dances about the room. He has great variety of 
conversation, commensurate with his experiences in 
life, and sometimes will talk Spanish, ore rotundo, — - 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 59 

sometimes imitate the Catholic priests, chanting Latin 
songs for the dead, in deep, gruff, awful tones, pro- 
ducing really a very strong impression, — then he will 
break out into a light, French song, perhaps of love, 
perhaps of war, acting it out, as if on the stage of a 
theatre : all this intermingled with continual fun, ex- 
cited by the incidents of the passing moment. He has 

Frenchified all our names, calling B Monsieur 

Du Pont, myself M. de L'Aubepine, and himself M. 
le Berger, and all, Knights of the Round-Table. And 
we live in great harmony and brotherhood, as queer a 
life as anybody leads, and as queer a set as may be 
found anywhere. In his more serious intervals, he 
talks philosophy and deism, and preaches obedience 
to the law of reason and morality ; which law he says 
(and I believe him) he has so well observed, that, not- 
withstanding his residence in dissolute countries, he 
has never yet been sinful. He wishes me, eight or 
nine weeks hence, to accompany him on foot to Que- 
bec, and then to Niagara and New York. I should 
like it well, if my circumstances and other consider- 
ations would permit. What pleases much in Mons. 

S is the simple and childlike enjoyment he finds 

in trifles, and the joy with which he speaks of going 
back to his own country, away from the dull Yankees, 
who here misunderstand and despise him. Yet I have 
never heard him speak harshly of them. I rather 

think that B and I will be remembered by him 

with more pleasure than anybody else in the country ; 
for we have sympathized with him, and treated him 
kindly, and like a gentleman and an equal ; and he 
comes to us at night as to home and friends. 

I went down to the river to-day to see B fish 

for salmon with a fly, — a hopeless business ; for he 



60 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

says that only one instance has been known in the 
United States of salmon being taken otherwise than 
with a net. A few chubs were all the fruit of his pis- 
catory efforts. But while looking at the rushing and 
rippling stream, I saw a great fish, some six feet long 
and thick in proportion, suddenly emerge at whole 
length, turn a somerset, and then vanish again be- 
neath the water. It was of a glistening, yellowish 
brown, with its fins all spread, and looking very 
strange and startling, darting out so lifelike from the 
black water, throwing itself fully into the bright sun- 
shine, and then lost to sight and to pursuit. I saw 
also a long, flat-bottomed boat go up the river, with a 
brisk wind, and against a strong stream. Its sails 
were of curious construction : a long mast, with two 
sails below, one on each side of the boat, and a broader 
one surmounting them. The sails were colored brown, 
and appeared like leather or skins, but were really 
cloth. At a distance, the vessel looked like, or at 
least I compared it to, a monstrous water-insect skim- 
ming along the river. If the sails had been crimson 
or yellow, the resemblance would have been much 
closer. There was a pretty spacious raised cabin in 
the after part of the boat. It moved along lightly, 
and disappeared between the woody banks. These 
boats have the two parallel sails attached to the same 
yard, and some have two sails, one surmounting the 
other. They trade to Waterville and thereabouts, — 
names, as " Paul Pry," on their sails. 

Saturday, July 15th. — Went with B yester- 

day to visit several Irish shanties, endeavoring to find 
out who had stolen some rails of a fence. At the first 
door at which we knocked (a shanty with an earthen 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 61 

mound heaped against the wall, two or three feet 
thick), the inmates were not up, though it was past 
eight o'clock. At last a middle-aged woman showed 
herself, half dressed, and completing her toilet. 
Threats were made of tearing down her house ; for 
she is a lady of very indifferent morals, and sells rum. 
Few of these people are connected with the mill-dam, 
— or, at least, many are not so, but have intruded 
themselves into the vacant huts which were occupied 
by the mill-dam people last year. In two or three 
places hereabouts there is quite a village of these 
dwellings, with a clay and board chimney, or oftener 
an old barrel, smoked and charred with the fire. 
Some of their roofs are covered with sods, and appear 
almost subterranean. One of the little hamlets stands 
on both sides of a deep dell, wooded and bush-grown, 
with a vista, as it were, into the heart of a 'wood in 
one direction, and to the broad, sunny river in the 
other : there was a little rivulet, crossed by a plank, 
at the bottom of the dell. At two doors we saw very 
pretty and modest-looking young women, — one with 
a child in her arms. Indeed, they all have innumer- 
able little children ; and the} r are invariably in good 
health, though always dirty of face. They come to 
the door while their mothers are talking with the vis- 
itors, standing straight up on their bare legs, with 
their little plump bodies protruding, in one hand a 
small tin saucepan, and in the other an iron spoon, 
with unwashed mouths, looking as independent as any 
child or grown person in the land. They stare un- 
abashed, but make no answer when spoken to. " I 've 

no call to your fence, Misser B ." It seems 

strange that a man should have the right, unarmed 
with any legal instrument, of tearing down the dwell- 



62 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

ing-houses of a score of families, and driving the in- 
mates forth without a shelter. Yet B - undoubt- 
edly has this right ; and it is not a little striking to 
see how quietly these people contemplate the probabil- 
ity of his exercising it, — resolving, indeed, to burrow 
in their holes as long as may be, yet caring about as 
little for an ejectment as those who could find a tene- 
ment anywhere, and less. Yet the women, amid all 
the trials of their situation, appear to have kept up 
the distinction between virtue and vice ; those who 
can claim the former will not associate with the latter. 
When the women travel with young children, they 
carry the baby slung at their backs, and sleeping 
quietly. The dresses of the new-comers are old-fash- 
ioned, making them look aged before their time. 

Monsieur S shaving himself yesterday morning. 

He was in excellent spirits, and could not keep his 
tongue or body still more than long enough to make 
two or three consecutive strokes at his beard. Then 
he would turn, flourishing his razor and grimacing joy- 
ously, enacting droll antics, breaking out into scraps 
and verses of drinking-songs, U A boire ! a boire ! " — 
then laughing heartily, and crying, " Vive la gaite ! " 
— then resuming his task, looking into the glass with 
grave face, on which, however, a grin would soon 
break out anew, and all his pranks would be repeated 
with variations. He turned this foolery to philosophy, 
by observing that mirth contributed to goodness of 
heart, and to make us love our fellow-creatures. Con- 
versing with him in the evening, he affirmed, with evi- 
dent belief in the truth of what he said, that he would 
have no objection, except that it would be a very fool- 
ish thing, to expose his whole heart, his whole inner 
man, to the view of the world. Not that there would 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 63 

not be much evil discovered there ; but, as lie was 
conscious of being in a state of mental and moral im- 
provement, working out his progress onward, he would 
not shrink from such a scrutiny. This talk was in- 
troduced by his mentioning the " Minister's Black 
Veil," which he said he had seen translated into 
French, as an exercise, by a Miss Appleton of Bangor* 
Saw by the river-side, late in the afternoon, one of 
the above-described boats going into the stream with 
the water rippling at the prow, from the strength of 
the current and of the boat's motion. By and by comes 
down a raft, perhaps twenty yards long, guided by two 
men, one at each end, — the raft itself of boards sawed 
at Waterville, and laden with square bundles of shin- 
gles and round bundles of clapboards. " Friend," 
says one man, " how is the tide now ? " — this being 
important to the onward progress. They make fast 
to a tree, in order to wait for the tide to rise a little 
higher. It would be pleasant enough to float down 
the Kennebec on one of these rafts, letting the river 
conduct you onward at its own pace, leisurely display- 
ing to you all the wild or ordered beauties along its 
banks, and perhaps running you aground in some 
peculiarly picturesque spot, for your longer enjoyment 
of it. Another object, perhaps, is a solitary man pad- 
dling himself down the river in a small canoe, the 
light, lonely touch of his paddle in the water making 
the silence seem deeper. Every few minutes a stur- 
geon leaps forth, sometimes behind you, so that you 
merely hear the splash, and, turning hastily around, 
see nothing but the disturbed water. Sometimes he 
darts straight on end out of a quiet black spot on 
which your eyes happen to be fixed, and, when even 
his tail is clear of the surface, he falls down on his 
side and disappears. 



64 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

On the river -bank, an Irishwoman washing some 
clothes, surrounded by her children, whose babbling 
sounds pleasantly along the edge of the shore; and 
she also answers in a sweet, kindly, and cheerful 
voice, though an immoral woman, and without the cer- 
tainty of bread or shelter from day to day. An Irish- 
man sitting angling on the brink with an alder pole 
and a clothes-line. At frequent intervals, the scene 
is suddenly broken by a loud report like thunder, roll- 
ing along the banks, echoing and reverberating afar. 
It is a blast of rocks. Along the margin, sometimes 
sticks of timber made fast, either separately or several 
together ; stones of some size, varying the pebbles and 
sand ; a clayey spot, where a shallow brook runs into 
the river, not with a deep outlet, but finding its way 
across the bank in two or three single runlets. Look- 
ing upward into the deep glen whence it issues, you 
see its shady current. Elsewhere, a high acclivity, 
with the beach between it and the river, the ridge 
broken and caved away, so that the earth looks fresh 
and yellow, and is penetrated by the nests of birds. 
An old, shining tree-trunk, half in and half out of the 
water. An island of gravel, long and narrow, in the 
centre of the river. Chips, blocks of wood, slabs, and 
other scraps of lumber, strewed along the beach ; logs 
drifting down. The high bank covered with various 
trees and shrubbery, and, in one place, two or three 
Irish shanties. 

Thursday, July 20th. — A drive yesterday after= 
noon to a pond in the vicinity of Augusta, about nine 
miles off, to fish for white perch. Remarkables : the 
steering of the boat through the crooked, labyrinthine 
brook, into the open pond, — the man who acted as 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 65 

pilot, — his talking with B about politics, the 

bank, the iron money of " a king who came to reign, 
in Greece, over a city called Sparta," — his advice to 

B to come amongst the laborers on the mill-dam, 

because it stimulated them " to see a man grinning 
amongst them." The man took hearty tugs at a bottle 
of good Scotch whiskey, and became pretty merry. 
The fish caught were the yellow perch, which are not 
esteemed for eating ; the white perch, a beautiful, 
silvery, round-backed fish, which bites eagerly, runs 
about with the line while being pulled up, makes good 
sport for the angler, and an admirable dish ; a great 
chub ; and three horned pouts, which swallow the hook 
into their lowest entrails. Several dozen fish were 
taken in an hour or two, and then we returned to the 
shop where we had left our horse and wagon, the pilot 
very eccentric behind us. It was a small, dingy shop, 
dimly lighted by a single inch of candle, faintly dis- 
closing various boxes, barrels standing on end, articles 
hanging from the ceiling ; the proprietor at the coun- 
ter, whereon appear gin and brandy, respectively con- 
tained in a tin pint-measure and an earthenware jug, 
with two or three tumblers beside them, out of which 
nearly all the party drank ; some coming up to the coun- 
ter frankly, others lingering in the background, wait- 
ing to be pressed, two paying for their own liquor and 

withdrawing. B treated them twice round. The 

pilot, after drinking his brandy, gave a history of our 
fishing expedition, and how many and how large fish 
we caught. B making acquaintances and renew- 
ing them, and gaining great credit for liberality and 
free-heartedness, — two or three boys looking on and 
listening to the talk, — the shopkeeper smiling behind 
his counter, with the tarnished tin scales beside him, 

VOL. IX. 5 



66 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS* [1837. 

— - the inch of candle burning down almost to extinc- 
tion. So we got into our wagon, with the fish, and 
drove to Robinson's tavern, almost five miles off, 
where we supped and passed the night. In the bar- 
room was a fat old countryman on a journey, and a 
quack doctor of the vicinity, and an Englishman with 
a peculiar accent. Seeing B 's jointed and brass- 
mounted fishing-pole, he took it for a theodolite, and 
supposed that we had been on a surveying expedition. 
At supper, which consisted of bread, butter, cheese, 
cake, doughnuts and gooseberry-pie, we were waited 
upon by a tall, very tall woman, young and maiden- 
looking, yet with a strongly outlined and determined 
face. Afterwards we found her to be the wife of mine 
host. She poured out our tea, came in when we rang 
the table - bell to refill our cups, and again retired. 
While at supper, the fat old traveller was ushered 
through the room into a contiguous bedroom. My 
own chamber, apparently the best in the house, had 
its walls ornamented with a small, gilt-framed, foot- 
square looking-glass, with a hair-brush hanging be- 
neath it ; a record of the deaths of the family written 
on a black tomb, in an engraving, where a father, 
mother, and child were represented in a graveyard, 
weeping over said tomb; the mourners dressed in 
black, country-cut clothes ; the engraving executed in 
Vermont. There was also a wood engraving of the 
Declaration of Independence, with fac-similes of the 
autographs ; a portrait of the Empress Josephine, and 
another of Spring. In the two closets of this cham- 
ber were mine hostess's cloak, best bonnet, and go-to- 
meeting apparel. There was a good bed, in which I 
slept tolerably well, and, rising betimes, ate breakfast, 
consisting of some of our own fish, and then started 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 67 

for Augusta. The fat old traveller had gone off with 
the harness of our wagon, which the hostler had put 
on to his horse by mistake. The tavern-keeper gave 
us his own harness, and started in pursuit of the old 
man, who was probably aware of the exchange, and 
well satisfied with it. 

Our drive to Augusta, six or seven miles, was very 
pleasant, a heavy rain having fallen during the night, 
and laid the oppressive dust of the day before. The 
road lay parallel with the Kennebec, of which we oc- 
casionally had near glimpses. The country swells back 
from the river in hills and ridges, without any interval 
of level ground ; and there were frequent woods, fill- 
ing up the valleys or crowning the summits. The land 
is good, the farms look neat, and the houses comforta- 
ble. The latter are generally but of one story, but 
with large barns ; and it was a good sign, that, while 
we saw no houses unfinished nor out of repair, one 
man at least had found it expedient to make an addi- 
tion to his dwelling. At the distance of more than 
two miles, we had a view of white Augusta, with its 
steeples, and the State-House, at the farther end of 
the town. Observable matters along the road were 
the stage, — all the dust of yesterday brushed off, and 
no new dust contracted, — full of passengers, inside 
and out; among them some gentlemanly people and 
pretty girls, all looking fresh and unsullied, rosy, 
cheerful, and curious as to the face of the country, 
the faces of passing travellers, and the incidents of 
their journey ; not yet damped, in the morning sun- 
shine, by long miles of jolting over rough and hilly 
roads, — to compare this with their appearance at 
midday, and as they drive into Bangor at dusk ; — 
two women dashing along in a wagon, and with a 



68 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

child, rattling pretty speedily down hill ; — people 
looking at us from the open doors and windows ; — - 
the children staring from the wayside ; — the mowers 
stopping, for a moment, the sway of their scythes ; — ■ 
the matron of a family, indistinctly seen at some dis- 
tance within the house, her head and shoulders ap- 
pearing through the window, drawing her handker- 
chief over her bosom, which had been uncovered to 
give the baby its breakfast, — the said baby, or its 
immediate predecessor, sitting at the door, turning 
round to creep away on all fours ; — a man building 
a flat-bottomed boat by the roadside : he talked with 
B about the Boundary question, and swore fer- 
vently in favor of driving the British " into hell's 
kitchen " by main force. 

Colonel B , the engineer of the mill-dam, is now 

here, after about a fortnight's absence. He is a plain 
country squire, with a good figure, but with rather a 
heavy brow ; a rough complexion ; a gait stiff, and a 
general rigidity of manner, something like that of a 
schoolmaster. He originated in a country town, and 
is a self-educated man. As he walked down the 
gravel-path to-day, after dinner, he took up a scythe, 
which one of the mowers had left on the sward, and 
began to mow, with quite a scientific swing. On the 
coming of the mower, he laid it down, perhaps a little 
ashamed of his amusement. I was interested in this ; 
to see a man, after twenty-five years of scientific oc= 
cupation, thus trying whether his arms retained their 
strength and skill for the labors of his youth, — mind- 
ful of the day when he wore striped trousers, and 
toiled in his shirt-sleeves, — and now tasting again, 
for pastime, this drudgery beneath a fervid sun. He 
stood awhile, looking at the workmen, and then went 
to oversee the laborers at the mill-dam. 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 69 

Monday, July 24:th. — I bathed in the river on 
Thursday evening, and in the brook at the old dam 
on Saturday and Sunday, — the former time at noon. 
The aspect of the solitude at noon was peculiarly im- 
pressive, there being a cloudless sunshine, no wind, no 
rustling of the forest-leaves, no waving of the boughs, 
no noise but the brawling and babbling of the stream, 
making its way among the stones, and pouring in a 
little cataract round one side of the mouldering dam. 
Looking up the brook, there was a long vista, — now 
ripples, now smooth and glassy spaces, now large 
rocks, almost blocking up the channel ; while the 
trees stood upon either side, mostly straight, but here 
and there a branch thrusting itself out irregularly, 
and one tree, a pine, leaning over, — not bending, — 
but leaning at an angle over the brook, rough and 
ragged ; birches, alders ; the tallest of all the trees 
an old, dead, leafless pine, rising white and lonely, 
though closely surrounded by others. Along the 
brook, now the grass and herbage extended close to 
the water; now a small, sandy beach. The wall of 
rock before described looking as if it had been hewn, 
but with irregular strokes of the workman, doing his 
job by rough and ponderous strength, — now chancing 
to hew it away smoothly and cleanly, now carelessly 
smiting, and making gaps, or piling on the slabs of 
rock, so as to leave vacant spaces. In the interstices 
grow brake and broad-leaved forest-grass. The trees 
that spring from the top of this wall have their roots 
pressing close to the rock, so that there is no soil 
between ; they cling powerfully, and grasp the crag 
tightly with their knotty fingers. The trees on both 
sides are so thick, that the sight and the thoughts 
are almost immediately lost among confused stems, 



70 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

branches, and clustering green leaves, — a narrow 
strip of bright blue sky above, the sunshine falling 
lustrously down, and making the pathway of the brook 
luminous below. Entering among the thickets, I find 
the soil strewn with old leaves of preceding seasons, 
through which may be seen a black or dark mould ; 
the roots of trees stretch frequently across the path ; 
often a moss-grown brown log lies athwart, and when 
you set your foot down, it sinks into the decaying sub- 
stance, — into the heart of oak or pine. The leafy 
boughs and twigs of the underbrush enlace themselves 
before you, so that you must stoop your head to pass 
under, or thrust yourself through amain, while they 
sweep against your face, and perhaps knock off your 
hat. There are rocks mossy and slippery ; sometimes 
you stagger, with a great rustling of branches, against 
a clump of bushes, and into the midst of it. From 
end to end of all this tangled shade goes a pathway 
scarcely worn, for the leaves are not trodden through, 
yet plain enough to the eye, winding gently to avoid 
tree-trunks and rocks and little hillocks. In the more 
open ground, the aspect of a tall, fire-blackened stump, 
standing alone, high up on a swell of land, that rises 
gradually from one side of the brook, like a monu- 
ment. Yesterday, I passed a group of children in 
this solitary valley, — two boys, I think, and two 
girls. One of the little girls seemed to have suffered 
some wrong from her companions, for she was weep- 
ing and complaining violently. Another time, I came 
suddenly on a small Canadian boy, who was in a hol- 
low place, among the ruined logs of an old cause- 
way, picking raspberries, — lonely among bushes and 
gorges, far up the wild valley, — and the lonelier 
seemed the little boy for the bright sunshine, that 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 71 

showed no one else in a wide space of view except him 
and me. 

Remarkable items : the observation o£ Mons, S- ■ 

when B was saying something against the charac- 
ter of the French people, — " You ought not to form 
an unfavorable judgment of a great nation from mean- 
fellows like me, strolling about in a foreign country.' 5 
I thought it very noble thus to protest against anything 
discreditable in himself personally being used against 
the honor of his country. He is a very singular per- 
son, with an originality in all his notions ; — not that 
nobody has ever had such before, but that he has 
thought them out for himself. He told me yester- 
day that one of his sisters was a waiting-maid in the 
Rocher de Caucale. He is about the sincerest man I 
ever knew, never pretending to feelings that are not 
in him, — never flattering. His feelings do not seem 
to be warm, though they are kindly. He is so single- 
minded that he cannot understand badinage, but takes 
it all as if meant in earnest, — a German trait. He 
values himself greatly on being a Frenchman, though 
all his most valuable qualities come from Germany. 
His temperament is cool and pure, and he is greatly 
delighted with any attentions from the ladies. A short 
time since, a lady gave him a bouquet of roses and 
pinks; he capered and danced and sang, put it in 
water, and carried it to his own chamber; but he 
brought it out for us to see and admire two or three 
times a day, bestowing on it all the epithets of admi- 
ration in the French language, — " Superbe ! magni- 
fique 1 " When some of the flowers began to fade, he 
made the rest, with others, into a new nosegay, and 
consulted us whether it would be fit to give to another 
lady. Contrast this French foppery with his solemn 



72 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

moods, when we sat in the twilight, or after B is 

abed, talking of Christianity and Deism, of ways of 
life, of marriage, of benevolence, — in short, of all 
deep matters of this world and the next. An evening 
or two since, he began singing all manner of English 
songs, — such as Mrs. Hemans's " Landing of the 
Pilgrims," " Auld Lang Syne," and some of Moore's, 
— the singing pretty fair, but in the oddest tone and 
accent. Occasionally he breaks out with scraps from 
French tragedies, which he spouts with corresponding 
action. He generally gets close to me in these dis- 
plays of musical and histrionic talent. Once he of- 
fered to magnetize me in the manner of Monsieur 
P— . 

Wednesday, July 26th. — Dined at Barker's yes- 
terday. Before dinner, sat with several other persons 

in the stoop of the tavern. There were B , J. A. 

Chandler, Clerk of the Court, a man of middle age or 
beyond, two or three stage people, and, near by, a 
negro, whom they call " the Doctor," a crafty-looking 
fellow, one of whose occupations is nameless. In pres- 
ence of this goodly company, a man of a depressed, 
neglected air, a soft, simple - looking fellow, with an 
anxious expression, in a laborer's dress, approached 
and inquired for Mr. Barker. Mine host being gone 
to Portland, the stranger was directed to the bar- 
keeper, who stood at the door. The man asked where 
he should find one Mary Ann Russell, — a question 
which excited general and hardly suppressed mirth; 
for the said Mary Ann is one of a knot of women who 
were routed on Sunday evening by Barker and a con- 
stable. The man was told that the black fellow would 
give him all the information he wanted. The black 
fellow asked, — 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 73 

" Do you want to see her ? " 

Others of the by-standers or by-sitters put various 
questions as to the nature of the man's business with 
Mary Ann. One asked, — 

" Is she your daughter ? " 

" Why, a little nearer than that, I calkilate," said 
the poor devil. 

Here the mirth was increased, it being evident that 
the woman was his wife. The man seemed too simple 
and obtuse to comprehend the ridicule of his situation, 
or to be rendered very miserable by it. Nevertheless, 
he made some touching points. 

" A man generally places some little dependence on 
his wife," said he, " whether she 's good or not." 

He meant, probably, that he rests some affection on 
her. He told us that she had behaved well, till com- 
mitted to jail for striking a child ; and I believe he 
was absent from home at the time, and had not seen 
her since. And now he was in search of her, intend- 
ing, doubtless, to do his best to get her out of her 
troubles, and then to take her back to his home. 
Some advised him not to look after her ; others recom- 
mended him to pay " the Doctor " aforesaid for guid- 
ing him to her ; which finally " the Doctor " did, in 
consideration of a treat ; and the fellow went off, hav- 
ing heard little but gibes and not one word of sympa- 
thy ! I would like to have witnessed his meeting with 
his wife. 

There was a moral picturesqueness in the contrasts 
of the scene, — a man moved as deeply as his nature 
would admit, in the midst of hardened, gibing specta- 
tors, heartless towards him. It is worth thinking over 
and studying out. He seemed rather hurt and pricked 
by the jests thrown at him, yet bore it patiently, and 



74 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

sometimes almost joined in the laugh, being of an 
easy, unenergetic temper. 

Hints for characters : Nancy, a pretty, black-eyed, 

intelligent servant-girl, living in Captain H 's fam* 

ily. She comes daily to make the beds in our part of 
the house, and exchanges a good-morning with me, in 
a pleasant voice, and with a glance and smile, — some- 
what shy, because we are not acquainted, yet capable 
of being made conversable. She washes once a week, 
and may be seen standing over her tub, with her hand- 
kerchief somewhat displaced from her white neck, 
because it is hot. Often she stands with her bare 

arms in the water, talking with Mrs. H , or looks 

through the window, perhaps, at B , or somebody 

else crossing the yard, — rather thoughtfully, but soon 
smiling or laughing. Then goeth she for a pail of 
water. In the afternoon, very probably, she dresses 
herself in silks, looking not only pretty, but lady-like, 
and strolls round the house, not unconscious that some 
gentleman may be staring at her from behind the 
green blinds. After supper, she walks to the village. 
Morning and evening, she goes a-milking. And thus 
passes her life, cheerfully, usefully, virtuously, with 
hopes, doubtless, of a husband and children. — Mrs. 

H is a particularly plump, soft-fleshed, fair-com- 

plexioned, comely woman enough, with rather a simple 
countenance, not nearly so piquant as Nancy's. Her 
walk has something of the roll or waddle of a fat wo- 
man, though it were too much to call her fat. She 
seems to be a sociable body, probably laughter-loving. 

Captain H himself has commanded a steamboat, 

and has a certain knowledge of life. 

Query, in relation to the man's missing wife, how 
much desire and resolution of doing her duty by he* 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 75 

husband can a wife retain, while injuring him in what 
is deemed the most essential point ? 

Observation. The effect of morning sunshine on 
the wet grass, on sloping and swelling land, between 
the spectator and the sun at some distance, as across a 
lawn. It diffused a dim brilliancy over the whole sur* 
face of the field. The mists, slow-rising farther off, 
part resting on the earth, the remainder of the column 
already ascending so high that you doubt whether to 
call it a fog or a cloud. 

Friday, July 28th. — ■ Saw my classmate and for- 
merly intimate friend, , for the first time since 

we graduated. He has met with good success in life, 
in spite of circumstance, having struggled upward 
against bitter opposition, by the force of his own abili- 
ties, to be a member of Congress, after having been 
for some time the leader of his party in the State Leg- 
islature. We met like old friends, and conversed al- 
most as freely as we used to do in college days, twelve 
years ago and more. He is a singular person, shrewd, 
crafty, insinuating, with wonderful tact, seizing on 
each man by his manageable point, and using him for 
his own purpose, often without the man's suspecting 
that he is made a tool of; and yet, artificial as his 
character would seem to be, his conversation, at least 
to myself, was full of natural feeling, the expression 
of which can hardly be mistaken, and his revelations 
with regard to himself had really a great deal of frank- 
ness. He spoke of his ambition, of the obstacles which 
he had encountered, of the means by which he had 
overcome them, imputing great efficacy to his personal 
intercourse with people, and his study of their charac- 
ters ; then of his course as a member of the Legisla* 



76 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

ture and Speaker, and his style of speaking and its 
effects ; of the dishonorable things which had been im- 
puted to him, and in what manner he had repelled the 
charges. In short, he would seem to have opened him- 
self very freely as to his public life. Then, as to his 
private affairs, he spoke of his marriage, of his wife, 
his children, and told me, with tears in his eyes, of the 
death of a dear little girl, and how it affected him, and 
how impossible it had been for him to believe that she 
was really to die. A man of the most open nature 
might well have been more reserved to a friend, after 
twelve years' separation, than was to me. Never- 
theless, he is really a crafty man, concealing, like a 
murder-secret, anything that it is not good for him to 
have known. He by no means feigns the good-feeling 
that he professes, nor is there anything affected in 
the frankness of his conversation; and it is this that 
makes him so very fascinating. There is such a quan- 
tity of truth and kindliness and warm affections, that 
a man's heart opens to him, in spite of himself. H$ 
deceives by truth. And not only is he crafty, but P 
when occasion demands, bold and fierce as a tiger, de- 
termined, and even straightforward and undisguised 
in his measures, — a daring fellow as well as a sly 
one. Yet, notwithstanding his consummate art, the 
general estimate of his character seems to be pretty 
just. Hardly anybody, probably, thinks him better 
than he is, and many think him worse. Nevertheless, 
if no overwhelming discovery of rascality be made, he 
will always possess influence ; though I should hardly 
think that he would take any prominent part in 
Congress. As to any rascality, I rather believe that 
he has thought out for himself a much higher system 
of morality than any natural integrity would have 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 77 

prompted him to adopt ; that he has seen the thorough 
advantage of morality and honesty ; and the sentiment 
of these qualities has now got into his mind and spirit, 
and pretty well impregnated them. I believe him to 
be about as honest as the great run of the world, with 
something even approaching to high-minded ness. His 
person in some degree accords with his character, — 
thin and with a thin face, sharp features, sallow, a pro- 
jecting brow not very high, deep-set eyes, an insinuat- 
ing smile and look, when he meets you, and is about 
to address you. I should think that he would do away 
with this peculiar expression, for it reveals more of 
himself than can be detected in any other way, in per- 
sonal intercourse with him. Upon the whole, I have 

quite a good liking for him, and mean to go to 

to see him. 

Observation. A steam-engine across the river, which 
almost continually during the day, and sometimes all 
night, may be heard puffing and panting, as if it ut- 
tered groans for being compelled to labor in the heat 
and sunshine, and when the world is asleep also. 

Monday, July 31 st. — Nothing remarkable to re- 
cord. A child asleep in a young lady's arms, — a lit- 
tle baby, two or three months old. Whenever any- 
thing partially disturbed the child, as, for instance, 
when the young lady or a by-stander patted its cheek 
or rubbed its chin, the child would smile ; then all its 
dreams seemed to be of pleasure and happiness. At 
first the smile was so faint, that I doubted whether it 
were really a smile or no ; but, on further efforts, it 
brightened forth very decidedly. This, without open- 
ing its eyes. — A constable, a homely, good-natured, 
business-looking man, with a warrant against an Irish* 



78 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

man's wife for throwing a brick-bat at a fellow. He 
gave good advice to the Irishman about the best 
method of coming easiest through the affair. Finally 
settled, — the justice agreeing to relinquish his fees, 
on condition that the Irishman would pay for the 
mending of his old boots ! 

I went with Monsieur S yesterday to pick rasp- 
berries. He fell through an old log bridge thrown 
over a hollow ; looking back, only his head and shoul- 
ders appeared through the rotten logs and among the 
bushes. — A shower coming on, the rapid running of 
a little barefooted boy, coming up unheard, and dash- 
ing swiftly past us, and showing the soles of his naked 
feet as he ran adown the path, and up the opposite 
rise. 

Tuesday, August 1st. — There having been a heavy 
rain yesterday, a nest of chimney-swallows was washed 
down the chimney into the fireplace of one of the front 
rooms. My attention was drawn to them by a most 
obstreperous twittering ; and looking behind the fire- 
board, there were three young birds, clinging with 
their feet against one of the jambs, looking at me, 
open-mouthed, and all clamoring together, so as quite 
to fill the room with the short, eager, frightened sound. 
The old birds, by certain signs upon the floor of the 
room, appeared to have fallen victims to the appetite 
of the cat. La belle Nancy provided a basket filled 
with cotton-wool, into which the poor little devils were 
put ; and I tried to feed them with soaked bread, of 
which, however, they did not eat with much relish. 
Tom, the Irish boy, gave it as his opinion that they 
were not old enough to be weaned. I hung the bas- 
ket out of the window, in the sunshine, and upon look- 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 79 

ing in, an hour or two after, found that two of the 
birds had escaped. The other I tried to feed, and 
sometimes, when a morsel of bread was thrust into its 
open mouth, it would swallow it. But it appeared to 
suffer very much, vociferating loudly when disturbed, 
and panting, in a sluggish agony, with eyes closed, or 
half opened, when let alone. It distressed me a good 
deal; and I felt relieved, though somewhat shocked, 

when B put an end to its misery by squeezing its 

head and throwing it out of the window. They were 
of a slate-color, and might, I suppose, have been able 
to shift for themselves. — The other day a little yel- 
low bird flew into one of the empty rooms, of which 
there are half a dozen on the lower floor, and could 
not find his way out again, flying at the glass of the 
windows, instead of at the door, thumping his head 
against the panes or against the ceiling. I drove him 
into the entry and chased him from end to end, en- 
deavoring to make him fly through one of the open 
doors. He would fly at the circular light over the 
door, clinging to the casement, sometimes alighting on 
one of the two glass lamps, or on the cords that sus- 
pended them, uttering an affrighted and melancholy 
cry whenever I came near and flapped my handker- 
chief, and appearing quite tired and sinking into de* 
spair. At last he happened to fly low enough to pass 
through the door, and immediately vanished into the 
gladsome sunshine. — Ludicrous situation of a man, 
drawing his chaise down a sloping bank, to wash in 
the river. The chaise got the better of him, and, rush- 
ing downward as if it were possessed, compelled him 
to run at full speed, and drove him up to his chin into 
the water. A singular instance, that a chaise may 
run away with a man without a horse ! 



80 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

Saturday August 12th. — Left Augusta a week 

ago this morning for . Nothing particular in our 

drive across the country. Fellow-passenger, a Boston 
dry-goods dealer, travelling to collect bills. At many 
of the country shops he would get out, and show his 
unwelcome visage. In the tavern, prints from Scrip- 
ture, varnished and on rollers, — such as the Judg- 
ment of Christ ; also a droll set of colored engravings 
of the story of the Prodigal Son, the figures being 
clad in modern costume, — or, at least, that of not 
more than half a century ago. The father, a grave, 
clerical person, with a white wig and black broad- 
cloth suit ; the son, with a cocked hat and laced 
clothes, drinking wine out of a glass, and caressing a 
woman in fashionable dress. At a nice, comfort- 
able boarding-house tavern, without a bar or any sort 
of wines or spirits. An old lady from Boston, with 
her three daughters, one of whom was teaching music, 
and the other two schoolmistresses. A frank, free, 
mirthful daughter of the landlady, about twenty-four 
years old, between whom and myself there immedi- 
ately sprang up a flirtation, which made us both feel 
rather melancholy when we parted on Tuesday morn- 
ing. Music in the evening, with a song by a rather 
pretty, fantastic little mischief of a brunette, about 
eighteen years old, who has married within a year, and 
spent the last summer in a trip to the Springs and 
elsewhere. Her manner of walking is by jerks, with 
a quiver, as if she were made of calves-feet jelly. I 

talk with everybody : to Mrs. T good sense, — to 

Mary, good sense,, with a mixture of fun, — to Mrs. 
Gr -, sentiment, romance, and nonsense. 

Walked with to see General Knox's old man- 
sion, — a large, rusty - looking edifice of wood, with 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 81 

some grandeur in the architecture, standing on the 
banks of the river, close by the site of an old burial- 
ground, and near where an ancient fort had been 
erected for defence against the French and Indians. 
General Knox once owned a square of thirty miles in 
this part of the country, and he wished to settle it in 
with a tenantry, after the fashion of English gentle- 
men. He would permit no edifice to be erected within 
a certain distance of his mansion. His patent covered, 
of course, the whole present town of Waldoborough, 
and divers other flourishing commercial and coun- 
try villages, and would have been of incalculable value 
could it have remained unbroken to the present time. 
But the General lived in grand style, and received 
throngs of visitors from foreign parts, and was obliged 
to part with large tracts of his possessions, till now 
there is little left but the ruinous mansion and the 
ground immediately around it. His tomb stands near 
the house, — a spacious receptacle, an iron door at the 
end of a turf -covered mound, and surmounted by an 
obelisk of marble. There are inscriptions to the mem- 
ory of several of his family ; for he had many children, 
all of whom are now dead, except one daughter, a 
widow of fifty, recently married to Hon. John H— — . 
There is a stone fence round the monument. On the 
outside of this are the gravestones, and large, flat 
tombstones of the ancient burial-ground, — the tomb- 
stones being of red freestone, with vacant spaces, for- 
merly inlaid with slate, on which were the inscriptions, 
and perhaps coats of arms. One of these spaces was 
in the shape of a heart. The people were very wrath- 
ful that the General should have laid out his grounds 
over this old burial-place ; and he dared never throw 
down the gravestones, though his wife, a haughty Eng-> 



82 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

lish lady, often teased him to do so. But when the 
old general was dead, Lady Knox (as they called her) 
caused them to be prostrated, as they now lie. She 
was a woman of violent passions, and so proud an aris- 
tocrat, that, as long as she lived, she would never enter 
any house in the town except her own. When a mar- 
ried daughter was ill, she used to go in her carriage 
to the door and send up to inquire how she did. The 
General was personally very popular ; but his wife 
ruled him. The house and its vicinity, and the whole 
tract covered by Knox's patent, may be taken as an 
illustration of what must be the result of American 
schemes of aristocracy. It is not forty years since 
this house was built, and Knox was in his glory ; but 
now the house is all in decay, while within a stone's- 
throw of it there is a street of smart white edifices of 
one and two stories, occupied chiefly by thriving me- 
chanics, which has been laid out where Knox meant 
to have forests and parks. On the banks of the river, 
where he intended to have only one wharf for his own 
West Indian vessels and yacht, there are two wharves, 
with stores and a lime-kiln. Little appertains to the 
mansion except the tomb and the old burial - ground, 
and the old fort. 

The descendants are all poor, and the inheritance 
was merely sufficient to make a dissipated and drunken 
fellow of the only one of the old General's sons who 
survived to middle age. The man's habits were as 
bad as possible as long as he had any money ; but 
when quite ruined, he reformed. The daughter, the 
only survivor among Knox's children (herself child- 
less), is a mild, amiable woman, therein totally differ- 
ent from her mother. Knox, when he first visited his 
estate, arriving in a vessel, was waited upon by a dep*- 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 83 

utation of the squatters, who had resolved to resist 
him to the death. He received them with genial cour- 
tesy, made them dine with him aboard the vessel, and 
sent them back to their constituents in great love and 
admiration of him. He used to have a vessel running 
to Philadelphia, I think, and bringing him all sorts of 
delicacies. His way of raising money was to give a 
mortgage on his estate of a hundred thousand dollars 
at a time, and receive that nominal amount in goods, 
which he would immediately sell at auction for per- 
haps thirty thousand. He died by a chicken-bone. 
Near the house are the remains of a covered way, by 
which the French once attempted to gain admittance 
into the fort ; but the work caved in and buried a good 
many of them, and the rest gave up the siege. There 
was recently an old inhabitant living who remembered 
when the people used to reside in the fort. 

Owl's Head, — a watering - place, terminating a 
point of land, six or seven miles from Thomaston. A 
long island shuts out the prospect of the sea. Hither 
coasters and fishing-smacks run in when a storm is an- 
ticipated. Two fat landlords, both young men, with 
something of a contrast in their dispositions : one of 
them being a brisk, lively, active, jesting, fat man ; the 
other more heavy and inert, making jests sluggishly, 
if at all. Aboard the steamboat, Professor Stuart of 
Andover, sitting on a sofa in the saloon, generally in 
conversation with some person, resolving their doubts 
on one point or another, speaking in a very audible 
voice ; and strangers standing or sitting around to 
hear him, as if he were an ancient apostle or philoso- 
pher. He is a bulky man, with a large, massive face, 
particularly calm in its expression, and mild enough to 
Oe pleasing. When not otherwise occupied, he reads, 



84 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

without much notice of what is going on around him. 
He speaks without effort, yet thoughtfully. 

We got lost in a fog the morning after leaving 
Owl's Head. Fired a brass cannon, rang bell, blew 
steam, like a whale snorting. After one of the reports 
of the cannon, we heard a horn blown at no great dis 
tance, the sound coming soon after the report. Doubt- 
ful whether it came from the shore or a vessel. Con- 
tinued our ringing and snorting ; and by and by some- 
thing was seen to mingle with the fog that obscured 
everything beyond fifty yards from us. At first it 
seemed only like a denser wreath of fog ; it darkened 
still more, till it took the aspect of sails ; then the hull 
of a small schooner came beating down towards us, 
the wind laying her over towards us, so that her gun- 
wale was almost in the water, and we could see the 
whole of her sloping deck. 

" Schooner ahoy ! " say we. " Halloo ! Have you 
seen Boston Light this morning ? " 

" Yes ; it bears north-northwest, two miles distant." 

" Very much obliged to you," cries our captain. 

So the schooner vanishes into the mist behind. We 
get up our steam, and soon enter the harbor, meeting 
vessels of every rig ; and the fog, clearing away, shows 
a cloudy sky. Aboard, an old one - eyed sailor, who 
had lost one of his feet, and had walked on the stump 
from Eastport to Bangor, thereby making a shocking 
ulcer. 

Penobscot Bay is full of islands, close to which the 
steamboat is continually passing. Some are large, with 
portions of forest and portions of cleared land ; some 
are mere rocks, with a little green or none, and inhab- 
ited by sea-birds, which fly and flap about hoarsely. 
Their eggs may be gathered by the bushel, and are 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 85 

good to eat. Other islands have one house and barn 
on them, this sole family being lords and rulers of 
all the land which the sea girds. The owner of such 
an island must have a peculiar sense of property and 
lordship ; he must feel more like his own master and 
his own man than other people can. Other islands, 
perhaps high, precipitous, black bluffs, are crowned 
with a white light-house, whence, as evening comes on, 
twinkles a star across the melancholy deep, — seen by 
vessels coming on the coast, seen from the mainland, 
seen from island to island. Darkness descending, and, 
looking down at the broad wake left by the wheels of 
the steamboat, we may see sparkles of sea-fire glitter- 
ing through the gloom. 

Salem, August 22d. — A walk yesterday afternoon 
down to the Juniper and Winter Island. Singular 
effect of partial sunshine, the sky being broadly and 
heavily clouded, and land and sea, in consequence, be- 
ing generally overspread with a sombre gloom. But 
the sunshine, somehow or other, found its way between 
the interstices of the clouds, and illuminated some of 
the distant objects very vividly. The white sails of a 
ship caught it, and gleamed brilliant as sunny snow, 
the hull being scarcely visible, and the sea around 
dark; other smaller vessels too, so that they looked 
like heavenly-winged things, just alighting on a dismal 
world. Shifting their sails, perhaps, or going on an- 
other tack, they almost disappear at once in the ob- 
scure distance. Islands are seen in summer sunshine 
and green glory ; their rocks also sunny and their 
beaches white ; while other islands, for no apparent 
reason, are in deep shade, and share the gloom of the 
rest of the world. Sometimes part of an island is il- 



86 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

luminated and part dark. When the sunshine falls 
on a very distant island, nearer ones being in shade, 
it seems greatly to extend the bounds of visible space, 
and put the horizon to a farther distance. The sea 
roughly rushing against the shore, and dashing against 
the rocks, and grating back over the sands. A boat 
a little way from the shore, tossing and swinging at 
anchor. Beach birds flitting from place to place. 

The family seat of the Hawthornes is Wigcastle, 
Wigton, Wiltshire. The present head of the family, 
now residing there, is Hugh Hawthorne. William 
Hawthorne, who came over in 1635-36, was a younger 
brother of the family. 

A young man and girl meet together, each in search 
of a person to be known by some particular sign. 
They watch and wait a great while for that person to 
pass. At last some casual circumstance discloses that 
each is the one that the other is waiting for. Moral, 
— that what we need for our happiness is often close 
at hand, if we knew but how to seek for it. 

The journal of a human heart for a single day in 
ordinary circumstances. The lights and shadows that 
flit across it ; its internal vicissitudes. 

Distrust to be thus exemplified : Various good and 
desirable things to be presented to a young man, and 
offered to his acceptance, — as a friend, a wife, a fort- 
une; but he to refuse them all, suspecting that it is 
merely a delusion. Yet all to be real, and he to be 
told so, when too late. 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 87 

A man tries to be happy in love ; he cannot sin- 
cerely give his heart, and the affair seems all a dream. 
In domestic life, the same ; in politics, a seeming pa- 
triot ; but still he is sincere, and all seems like a the- 
atre. 

An old man, on a summer day, sits on a hill-top, or 
on the observatory of his house, and sees the sun's 
light pass from one object to another connected with 
the events of his past life, — as the school-house, the 
place where his wife lived in her maidenhood, — its 
setting beams falling on the churchyard. 

An idle man's pleasures and occupations and 
thoughts during a day spent by the sea-shore : among 
them, that of sitting on the top of a cliff, and throw- 
ing stones at his own shadow, far below. 

A blind man to set forth on a walk through ways 
unknown to him, and to trust to the guidance of any- 
body who will take the trouble ; the different charac- 
ters who would undertake it : some mischievous, some 
well-meaning, but incapable ; perhaps one blind man 
undertakes to lead another. At last, possibly, he re- 
jects all guidance, and blunders on by himself. 

In the cabinet of the Essex Historical Society, old 
portraits. — Governor Leverett; a dark mustachioed 
face, the figure two thirds length, clothed in a sort of 
frock-coat, buttoned, and a broad sword-belt girded 
round the waist, and fastened with a large steel buc- 
kle ; the hilt of the sword steel, — altogether very 
striking. Sir William Pepperell, in English regi- 
mentals, coat, waistcoat, and breeches, all of red broad- 



88 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

cloth, richly gold-embroidered; he holds a general's 
truncheon in his right hand, and extends the left to- 
wards the batteries erected against Louisbourg, in the 
country near which he is standing. Endicott, Pyn- 
cheon, and others, in scarlet robes, bands, etc. Half 
a dozen or more family portraits of the Olivers, some 
in plain dresses, brown, crimson, or claret ; others with 
gorgeous gold-embroidered waistcoats, descending al- 
most to the knees, so as to form the most conspicuous 
article of dress. Ladies, with lace ruffles, the paint- 
ing of which, in one of the pictures, cost five guineas. 
Peter Oliver, who was crazy, used to fight with these 
family pictures in the old Mansion House; and the 
face and breast of one lady bear cuts and stabs in- 
flicted bj him. Miniatures in oil, with the paint peel- 
ing off, of stern, old, yellow faces. Oliver Cromwell, 
apparently an old picture, half length, or one third, in 
an oval frame, probably painted for some New Eng- 
land partisan. Some pictures that had been partly 
obliterated by scrubbing with sand. The dresses, em- 
broidery, laces of the Oliver family are generally bet- 
ter done than the faces. Governor Leverett's gloves, 
— the glove part of coarse leather, but round the 
wrist a deep, three or four inch border of spangles 
and silver embroidery. Old drinking -glasses, with 
tall stalks. A black glass bottle, stamped with the 
name of Philip English, with a broad bottom. The 
baby-linen, etc., of Governor Bradford of Plymouth 
County. Old manuscript sermons, some written in 
short-hand, others in a hand that seems learnt from 
print. 

Nothing gives a stronger idea of old worm-eaten 
aristocracy — of a family being crazy with age, and 
of its being time that it was extinct — than these 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 89 

black, dusty, faded, antique-dressed portraits, such as 
those of the Oliver family ; the identical old white wig 
of an ancient minister producing somewhat the im- 
pression that his very scalp, or some other portion of 
his personal self, would do. 

The excruciating agonies which Nature inflicts on 
men (who break her laws) to be represented as the 
work of human tormentors ; as the gout, by screwing 
the toes. Thus we might find that worse than the 
tortures of the Spanish Inquisition are daily suffered 
without exciting notice. 

Suppose a married couple fondly attached to one 
another, and to think that they lived solely for one an- 
other ; then it to be found out that they were divorced, 
or that they might separate if they chose. What 
would be its effect ? 

Monday, August 27th. — Went to Boston last 
Wednesday. Remarkables : — An author at the 
American Stationers' Company, slapping his hand on 
his manuscript, and crying, " I 'm going to publish." 
— An excursion aboard a steamboat to Thompson's 
Island, to visit the Manual Labor School for boys. 
Aboard the steamboat several poets and various other 
authors; a Commodore, — Colton, a small, dark brown, 
sickly man, with a good deal of roughness in his ad- 
dress ; Mr. Waterston, talking poetry and philosophy. 
Examination and exhibition of the boys, little tanned 
agriculturists. After examination, a stroll round the 
island, examining the products, as wheat in sheaves on 
the stubble-field ; oats, somewhat blighted and spoiled ; 
great pumpkins elsewhere ; pastures ; mowing ground ; 



90 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

— all cultivated by the boys. Their residence, a great 
brick building, painted green, and standing on the 
summit of a rising ground, exposed to the winds of 
the bay. Vessels flitting past ; great ships, with in- 
tricacy of rigging and various sails ; schooners, sloops, 
with their one or two broad sheets of canvas : going 
on different tacks, so that the spectator might think 
that there was a different wind for each vessel, or that 
they scudded across the sea spontaneously, whither 
their own wills led them. The farm boys remain in- 
sulated, looking at the passing show, within sight of 
the city, yet having nothing to do with it ; beholding 
their fellow-creatures skimming by them in winged 
machines, and steamboats snorting and puffing through 
the waves. Methinks an island would be the most de- 
sirable of all landed property, for it seems like a little 
world by itself ; and the water may answer instead of 
the atmosphere that surrounds planets. The boys 
swinging, two together, standing up, and almost caus- 
ing the ropes and their bodies to stretch out horizon- 
tally. On our departure, they ranged themselves on 
the rails of the fence, and, being dressed in blue, 
looked not unlike a flock of pigeons. 

On Friday, a visit to the Navy Yard at Charles- 
town, in company with the Naval Officer of Boston, 
and Cilley. Dined aboard the revenue-cutter Hamil- 
ton. A pretty cabin, finished off with bird's-eye maple 
and mahogany ; two looking-glasses. Two officers in 
blue frocks, with a stripe of lace on each shoulder. 
Dinner, chowder, fried fish, corned beef, — claret, af- 
terwards champagne. The waiter tells the Captain of 
the cutter that Captain Percival (Commander of the 
Navy Yard) is sitting on the deck of the anchor hoy 
(which lies inside of the cutter), smoking his cigar. 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 91 

The captain sends him a glass of champagne, and in- 
quires of the waiter what Percival says of it. " He 
said, sir, 'What does he send me this damned stuff 
for?' but drinks, nevertheless." The Captain char- 
acterizes Percival as the roughest old devil that ever 
was in his manners, but a kind, good-hearted man at 
bottom. By and by comes in the steward. "Cap* 
tain Percival is coming aboard of you, sir." " Well, 
ask him to walk down into the cabin " ; and shortly 
down comes old Captain Percival, a white-haired, thin- 
visaged, weather-worn old gentleman, in a blue, Qua- 
ker-cut coat, with tarnished lace and brass buttons, a 
pair of drab pantaloons, and brown waistcoat. There 
was an eccentric expression in his face, which seemed 
partly wilful, partly natural. He has not risen to his 
present rank in the regular line of the profession ; but 
entered the navy as a sailing-master, and has all the 
roughness of that class of officers. Nevertheless, he 
knows how to behave and to talk like a gentleman. 
Sitting down, and taking in hand a glass of cham- 
pagne, he began a lecture on economy, and how well it 
was that Uncle Sam had a broad back, being compelled 
to bear so many burdens as were laid on it, — alluding 
to the table covered with wine-bottles. Then he spoke 
of the fitting up of the cabin with expensive woods, 
< — of the brooch in Captain Scott's bosom. Then he 
proceeded to discourse of politics, taking the opposite 
side to Cilley, and arguing with much pertinacity. He 
seems to have moulded and shaped himself to his own 
whims, till a sort of rough affectation has become 
thoroughly imbued throughout a kindly nature. He is 
full of antique prejudices against the modern fashions 
of the younger officers, their mustaches and such frip- 
peries, and prophesies little better than disgrace in 



92 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

case of another war ; owning that the boys would fight 
for their country, and die for her, but denying that 
there are any officers now like Hull and Stewart, whose 
exploits, nevertheless, he greatly depreciated, saying 
that the Boxer and Enterprise fought the only equal 
battle which we won during the war; and that, in 
that action, an officer had proposed to haul down the 
Stars and Stripes, and a common sailor threatened to 
cut him to pieces if he should do so. He spoke of 
Bainbridge as a sot and a poltroon, who wanted to 
run from the Macedonian, pretending to take her for 
a line-of -battle ship ; of Commodore Elliot as a liar ; 
but praised Commodore Downes in the highest terms. 
Percival seems to be the very pattern of old integrity; 
taking as much care of Uncle Sam's interests as if all 
the money expended were to come out of his own 
pocket. This quality was displayed in his resistance 
to the demand of a new patent capstan for the reve- 
nue-cutter, which, however, Scott is resolved in such a 
sailor-like way to get, that he will probably succeed. 
Percival spoke to me of how his business in the yard 
absorbed him, especially the fitting of the Columbus, 
seventy-four, of which ship he discoursed with great 
enthusiasm. He seems to have no ambition beyond 
his present duties, perhaps never had any; at any 
rate, he now passes his life with a sort of gruff con- 
tentedness, grumbling and growling, yet in good hu- 
mor enough. He is conscious of his peculiarities ; for 
when I asked him whether it would be well to make a 
naval officer Secretary of the Navy, he said, " God 
forbid, for that an old sailor was always full of preju- 
dices and stubborn whim-whams," instancing himself ; 
whereto I agreed. We went round the Navy Yard 
with Percival and Commodore Downes, the latter a 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. W6 

sailor and a gentleman too, with rather more of the 
ocean than the drawing-room about him, but courte* 
ous, frank, and good - natured. We looked at rope- 
walks, rigging-lofts, ships in the stocks ; and saw the 
sailors of the station laughing and sporting with great 
mirth and cheerfulness, which the Commodore said was 
much increased at sea. We returned to the wharf at 
Boston in the cutter's boat. Captain Scott, of the 
cutter, told me a singular story of what occurred dur- 
ing the action between the Constitution and Macedo- 
nian, — he being powder-monkey aboard the former 
ship. A cannon-shot came through the ship's side, 
and a man's head was struck off, probably by a splin- 
ter, for it was done without bruising the head or body, 
as clean as by a razor. Well, the man was walking 
pretty briskly at the time of the accident ; and Scott 
seriously affirmed that he kept walking onward at the 
same pace, with two jets of blood gushing from his 
headless trunk, till, after going about twenty feet with- 
out a head, he sunk down at once, with his legs under 
him. 

[In corroboration of the truth of this, see Lord Ba- 
con, Century IV. of his " Sylva Sylvarum," or Nat- 
ural History, in Ten Centuries, paragraph 400.] 

On Saturday, I called to see E. H , having pre- 
viously appointed a meeting for the purpose of inquir- 
ing about our name. He is an old bachelor, and truly 
forlorn. The pride of ancestry seems to be his great 
hobby. He had a good many old papers in his desk 
at the Custom House, which he produced and disser- 
tated upon, and afterwards went with me to his sis- 
ter's, and showed me an old book, with a record of the 
children of the first emigrant (who came over two 
hundred years ago), in his own handwriting. E 5 s 



94 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

manners are gentlemanly, and he seems to be very 
well informed. At a little distance, I think, one would 
take him to be not much over thirty ; but nearer at 
hand one finds him to look rather venerable, — per- 
haps fifty or more. He is nervous, and his hands 
shook while he was looking over the papers, as if he 
had been startled by my visit ; and when we came to 
the crossings of streets, he darted across, cautioning 
me, as if both were in great danger to be run over. 
Nevertheless, being very quick-tempered, he would face 
the Devil if at all irritated. He gave a most forlorn 
description of his life ; how, when he came to Salem, 

there was nobody except Mr. whom he cared 

about seeing; how his position prevented him from 
accepting of civilities, because he had no home where 
he could return them ; in short, he seemed about as 
miserable a being as is to be found anywhere, — lonely, 
and with sensitiveness to feel his loneliness, and ca- 
pacities, now withered, to have enjoyed the sweets of 
life. I suppose he is comfortable enough when busied 
in his duties at the Custom House ; for when I spoke 
to him at my entrance, he was too much absorbed to 
hear me at first. As we walked, he kept telling sto- 
ries of the family, which seemed to have comprised 
many oddities, eccentric men and women, recluses and 
other kinds, — one of old Philip English (a Jersey 
man, the name originally L' Anglais), who had been 
persecuted by John Hawthorne, of witch-time mem- 
ory, and a violent quarrel ensued. When Philip lay 
on his death-bed, he consented to forgive his persecu- 
tor ; " But if I get well," said he, " I '11 be damned if 
I forgive him ! " This Philip left daughters, one of 
whom married, I believe, the son of the persecuting 
John, and thus all the legitimate blood of English is 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 95 

in our family. E passed from the matters of 

birth, pedigree, and ancestral pride to give vent to the 
most arrant democracy and locofocoism that I ever 
happened to hear, saying that nobody ought to pos- 
sess wealth longer than his own life, and that then it 
should return to the people, etc. He says S. I — — 
has a great fund of traditions about the family, which 
she learned from her mother or grandmother (I for- 
get which), one of them being a Hawthorne. The old 

lady was a very proud woman, and, as E says, 

" proud of being proud," and so is S. I . 

October 1th. — A walk in Northfields in the after- 
noon. Bright sunshine and autumnal warmth, giving 
a sensation quite unlike the same degree of warmth in 
summer. Oaks, — some brown, some reddish, some 
still green ; walnuts, yellow, — fallen leaves and acorns 
lying beneath ; the footsteps crumple them in walk- 
ing. In sunny spots beneath the trees, where green 
grass is overstrewn by the dry, fallen foliage, as I 
passed, I disturbed multitudes of grasshoppers bask- 
ing in the warm sunshine ; and they began to hop, hop, 
hop, pattering on the dry leaves like big and heavy 
drops of a thunder-shower. They were invisible till 
they hopped. Boys gathering walnuts. Passed an 
orchard, where two men were gathering the apples. 
A wagon, with barrels, stood among the trees ; the 
men's coats flung on the fence ; the apples lay in 
heaps, and each of the men was up in a separate tree. 
They conversed together in loud voices, which the air 
caused to ring still louder, jeering each other, boast- 
ing of their own feats in shaking down the apples. 
One got into the very top of his tree, and gave a long 
and mighty shake, and the big apples came down 



96 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

thump, thump, bushels hitting on the ground at once. 
" There ! did you ever hear anything like that? " cried 
he. This sunny scene was pretty. A horse feeding 
apart, belonging to the wagon. The barberry-bushes 
have some red fruit on them, but they are frost-bitten. 
The rose-bushes have their scarlet hips. 

Distant clumps of trees, now that the variegated fo- 
liage adorns them, have a phantasmagorian, an appa- 
rition-like appearance. They seem to be of some kin- 
dred to the crimson and gold cloud-islands. It would 
not be strange to see phantoms peeping forth from 
their recesses. When the sun was almost below the 
horizon, his rays, gilding the upper branches of a yel- 
low walnut-tree, had an airy and beautiful effect, — 
the gentle contrast between the tint of the yellow in 
the shade and its ethereal gold in the fading sunshine. 
The woods that crown distant uplands were seen to 
great advantage in these last rays, for the sunshine 
perfectly marked out and distinguished every shade of 
color, varnishing them as it were ; while the country 
round, both hill and plain, being in gloomy shadow, 
the woods looked the brighter for it. 

The tide, being high, had flowed almost into the 
Cold Spring, so its small current hardly issued forth 
from the basin. As I approached, two little eels, 
about as long as my finger, and slender in proportion, 
wriggled out of the basin. They had come from the 
salt water. An Indian-corn field, as yet unharvested, 
— huge, golden pumpkins scattered among the hills 
of corn, — a noble-looking fruit. After the sun was 
down, the sky was deeply dyed with a broad sweep of 
gold, high towards the zenith ; not flaming brightly, 
but of a somewhat dusky gold. A piece of water, ex- 
tending towards the west, between high banks, caught 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 97 

the reflection, and appeared like a sheet of brighter 
and more glistening gold than the sky which made it 
bright. 

Dandelions and blue flowers are still growing in 
sunny places. Saw in a barn a prodigious treasure of 
onions in their silvery coats, exhaling a penetrating 
perfume. 

How exceeding bright looks the sunshine, casually 
reflected from a looking-glass into a gloomy region of 
the chamber, distinctly marking out the figures and 
colors of the paper-hangings, which are scarcely seen 
elsewhere. It is like the light of mind thrown on an 
obscure subject. 

Man's finest workmanship, the closer you observe it, 
the more imperfections it shows ; as in a piece of 
polished steel a microscope will discover a rough sur- 
face. Whereas, what may look coarse and rough in 
Nature's workmanship will show an infinitely minute 
perfection, the closer you look into it. The reason of 
the minute superiority of Nature's work over man's is, 
that the former works from the innermost germ, while 
the latter works merely superficially. 

Standing in the cross-road that leads by the Min- 
eral Spring, and looking towards an opposite shore of 
the lake, an ascending bank, with a dense border of 
trees, green, yellow, red, russet, all bright colors, 
brightened by the mild brilliancy of the descending 
sun ; it was strange to recognize the sober old friends 
of spring and summer in this new dress. By the by, 
a pretty riddle or fable might be made out of the 
changes in apparel of the familiar trees round a house 



98 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

adapted for children. But in the lake, beneath the 
aforesaid border of trees, — the water being not rip- 
pled, but its grassy surface somewhat moved and 
shaken by the remote agitation of a breeze that was 
breathing on the outer lake, — this being in a sort of 
bay, — in the slightly agitated mirror, the variegated 
trees were reflected dreamily and indistinctly ; a broad 
belt of bright and diversified colors shining in the wa- 
ter beneath. Sometimes the image of a tree might be 
almost traced ; then nothing but this sweep of broken 
rainbow. It was like the recollection of the real scene 
in an observer's mind, — a confused radiance. 

A whirlwind, whirling the dried leaves round in a 
circle, not very violently. 

To well consider the characters of a family of per- 
sons in a certain condition, — in poverty, for instance, 
— and endeavor to judge how an altered condition 
would affect the character of each. 

The aromatic odor of peat-smoke in the sunny au- 
tumnal air is very pleasant. 

Salem, October \\t~h. — A walk through Beverly 
to Browne's Hill, and home by the iron-factory. A 
bright, cool afternoon. The trees, in a large part of 
the space through which I passed, appeared to be in 
their fullest glory, bright red, yellow, some of a tender 
green, appearing at a distance as if bedecked with 
new foliage, though this emerald tint was likewise the 
effect of frost. In some places, large tracts of ground 
were covered as with a scarlet cloth, — the underbrush 
being thus colored. The general character of these 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 99 

autumnal colors is not gaudy, scarcely gay ; there is 
something too deep and rich in it : it is gorgeous and 
magnificent, but with a sobriety diffused. The pas- 
tures at the foot of Browne's Hill were plentifully 
covered with barberry - bushes, the leaves of which 
were reddish, and they were hung with a prodigious 
quantity of berries. From the summit of the hill, 
looking down a tract of woodland at a considerable 
distance, so that the interstices between the trees could 
not be seen, their tops presented an unbroken level, 
and seemed somewhat like a richly variegated carpet. 
The prospect from the hill is wide and interesting; 
but methinks it is pleasanter in the more immediate 
vicinity of the hill than miles away. It is agreeable 
to look down at the square patches of cornfield, or of 
potato-ground, or of cabbages still green, or of beets 
looking red, — all a man's farm, in short, — each por- 
tion of which he considers separately so important, 
while you take in the whole at a glance. Then to cast 
your eye over so many different establishments at once 
and rapidly compare them, — here a house of gentil- 
ity, with shady old yellow-leaved elms hanging around 
it ; there a new little white dwelling ; there an old 
farm-house ; to see the barns and sheds and all the 
out-houses clustered together ; to comprehend the one- 
ness and exclusiveness and what constitutes the pecul- 
iarity of each of so many establishments, and to have 
in your mind a multitude of them, each of which is the 
most important part of the world to those who live in 
it, — this really enlarges the mind, and you come down 
the hill somewhat wiser than you go up. Pleasant to 
look over an orchard far below, and see the trees, each 
casting its own shadow ; the white spires of meeting- 
houses; a sheet of water, partly seen among swelling 



100 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

lands. This Browne's Hill is a long ridge, lying in 
the midst of a large, level plain ; it looks at a distance 
somewhat like a whale, with its head and tail under 
water, but its immense back protruding, with steep 
sides, and a gradual curve along its length. When you 
have climbed it on one side, and gaze from the sum- 
mit at the other, you feel as if you had made a discov- 
ery, — the landscape being quite different on the two 
sides. The cellar of the house which formerly crowned 
the hill, and used to be named Browne's Folly, still 
remains, two grass-grown and shallow hollows, on the 
highest part of the ridge. The house consisted of two 
wings, each perhaps sixty feet in length, united by a 
middle part, in which was the entrance-hall, and which 
looked lengthwise along the hill. The foundation of 
a spacious porch may be traced on either side of the 
central portion ; some of the stones still remain ; but 
even where they are gone, the line of the porch is still 
traceable by the greener verdure. In the cellar, or 
rather in the two cellars, grow one or two barberry- 
bushes, with frost-bitten fruit; there is also yarrow 
with its white flower, and yellow dandelions. The 
cellars are still deep enough to shelter a person, all 
but his head at least, from the wind on the summit of 
the hill ; but they are all grass-grown. A line of trees 
seems to have been planted along the ridge of the hill. 
The edifice must have made quite a magnificent ap- 
pearance. 

Characteristics during the walk : — Apple-trees with 
only here and there an apple on the boughs, among 
the thinned leaves, the relics of a gathering. In others 
you observe a rustling, and see the boughs shaking 
and hear the apples thumping down, without seeing 
the person who does it. Apples scattered by the way- 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 101 

side, some with pieces bitten out, others entire, which 
you pick up and taste, and find them harsh, crabbed 
cider-apples, though they have a pretty, waxen appear- 
ance. In sunny spots of woodland, boys in search of 
nuts, looking picturesque among the scarlet and golden 
foliage. There is something in this sunny autumnal 
atmosphere that gives a peculiar effect to laughter and 
joyous voices, — it makes them infinitely more elastic 
and gladsome than at other seasons. Heaps of dry 
leaves tossed together by the wind, as if for a couch 
and lounging-place for the weary traveller, while the 
sun is warming it for him. Golden pumpkins and 
squashes, heaped in the angle of a house till they 
reach the lower windows. Ox - teams, laden with a 
rustling load of Indian corn, in the stalk and ear. 
When an inlet of the sea runs far up into the country, 
you stare to see a large schooner appear amid the 
rural landscape; she is unloading a cargo of wood, 
moist with rain or salt water that has dashed over it. 
Perhaps you hear the sound of an axe in the wood- 
land ; occasionally, the report of a fowling-piece. The 
travellers in the early part of the afternoon look warm 
and comfortable as if taking a summer drive ; but as 
eve draws nearer, you meet them well wrapped in top- 
coats or cloaks, or rough, great surtouts, and red-nosed 
withal, seeming to take no great comfort, but pressing 
homeward. The characteristic conversation among 
teamsters and country squires, where the ascent of a 
hill causes the chaise to go at the same pace as an ox- 
team, — perhaps discussing the qualities of a yoke of 
oxen. The cold, blue aspects of sheets of water. Some 
of the country shops with the doors closed ; others still 
open as in summer. I meet a wood-sawyer, with his 
horse and saw on his shoulders, returning from work* 



102 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

As night draws on, you begin to see the gleaming of 
fires on the ceilings in the houses which you pass. 
The comfortless appearance of houses at bleak and 
bare spots, — you wonder how there can be any enjoy- 
ment in them. I meet a girl in a chintz gown, with a 
small shawl on her shoulders, white stockings, and 
summer morocco shoes, — it looks observable. Tur- 
keys, queer, solemn objects, in black attire, grazing 
about, and trying to peck the fallen apples, which slip 
away from their bills. 

October 16th. — Spent the whole afternoon in a 
ramble to the sea -shore, near Phillips's Beach. A 
beautiful, warm, sunny afternoon, the very pleasant- 
est day, probably, that there has been in the whole 
course of the year. People at work, harvesting, with- 
out their coats. Cocks, with their squad of hens, in 
the grass-fields, hunting grasshoppers, chasing them 
eagerly with outspread wings, appearing to take much 
interest in the sport, apart from the profit. Other 
hens picking up the ears of Indian corn. Grasshop- 
pers, flies, and flying insects of all sorts are more 
abundant in these warm autumnal days than I have 
seen them at any other time. Yellow butterflies flut- 
ter about in the sunshine, singly, by pairs, or more, 
and are wafted on the gentle gales. The crickets be- 
gin to sing early in the afternoon, and sometimes a 
locust may be heard. In some warm spots, a pleasant 
buzz of many insects. 

Crossed the fields near Brookhouse's villa, and came 
upon a long beach, — at least a mile long, I should 
think, — terminated by craggy rocks at either end, 
and backed by a high broken bank, the grassy summit 
of which, year by year, is continually breaking away, 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 103 

and precipitated to the bottom. At the foot of the 
bank, in some parts, is a vast number of pebbles and 
paving-stones, rolled up thither by the sea long ago. 
The beach is of a brown sand, with hardly any peb- 
bles intermixed upon it. When the tide is part way 
down, there is a margin of several yards from the 
water's edge, along the whole mile length of the 
beach, which glistens like a mirror, and reflects ob- 
jects, and shines bright in the sunshine, the sand be- 
ing wet to that distance from the water. Above this 
margin the sand is not wet, and grows less and less 
damp the farther towards the bank you keep. In some 
places your footstep is perfectly implanted, showing 
the whole shape, and the square toe, and every nail 
in the heel of your boot. Elsewhere, the impression 
is imperfect, and even when you stamp, you cannot 
imprint the whole. As you tread, a dry spot flashes 
around your step, and grows moist as you lift your 
foot again. Pleasant to pass along this extensive 
walk, watching the surf - wave ; — how sometimes it 
seems to make a feint of breaking, but dies away in- 
effectually, merely kissing the strand ; then, after 
many such abortive efforts, it gathers itself, and 
forms a high wall, and rolls onward, heightening and 
heightening without foam at the summit of the green 
line, and at last throws itself fiercely on the beach, 
with a loud roar, the spray flying above. As you 
walk along, you are preceded by a flock of twenty or 
thirty beach birds, which are seeking, I suppose, for 
food on the margin of the surf, yet seem to be merely 
sporting, chasing the sea as it retires, and running up 
before the impending wave. Sometimes they let it 
bear them off their feet, and float lightly on its break- 
ing summit ; sometimes they flutter and seem to rest 



104 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

on the feathery spray. They are little birds with 
gray backs and snow-white breasts ; their images may 
be seen in the wet sand almost or quite as distinctly 
as the reality. Their legs are long. As you draw 
near, they take a flight of a score of yards or more, 
and then recommence their dalliance with the surf- 
wave. You may behold their multitudinous little 
tracks all along your way. Before you reach the end 
of the beach, you become quite attached to these little 
sea-birds, and take much interest in their occupations. 
After passing in one direction, it is pleasant then to 
retrace your footsteps. Your tracks being all trace- 
able, you may recall the whole mood and occupation 
of your mind during your first passage. Here you 
turned somewhat aside to pick up a shell that you saw 
nearer the water's edge. Here you examined a long 
sea-weed, and trailed its length after you for a consid- 
erable distance. Here the effect of the wide sea 
struck you suddenly. Here you fronted the ocean, 
looking at a sail, distant in the sunny blue. Here 
you looked at some plant on the bank. Here some 
vagary of mind seems to have bewildered you ; for 
your tracks go round and round, and interchange each 
other without visible reason. Here you picked up 
pebbles and skipped them upon the water. Here you 
wrote names and drew faces with a razor sea-shell in 
the sand. 

After leaving the beach, clambered over crags, all 
shattered and tossed about everyhow ; in some parts 
curiously worn and hollowed out, almost into caverns. 
The rock, shagged with sea-weed, — in some places, a 
thick carpet of sea-weed laid over the pebbles, into 
which your foot would sink. Deep tanks among these 
rocks, which the sea replenishes at high tide, and then 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 105 

leaves the bottom all covered with various sorts of sea- 
plants, as if it were some sea-monster's private garden. 
I saw a crab in one of them ; five-fingers too. From 
the edge of the rocks, you may look off into deep, deep 
water, even at low tide. Among the rocks, I found a 
great bird, whether a wild-goose, a loon, or an alba- 
tross, I scarcely know. It was in such a position that 
I almost fancied it might be asleep, and therefore 
drew near softly, lest it should take flight ; but it was 
dead, and stirred not when I touched it. Sometimes 
a dead fish was cast up. A ledge of rocks, with a 
beacon upon it, looking like a monument erected to 
those who have perished by shipwreck. The smoked, 
extempore fire-place, where a party cooked their fish. 
About midway on the beach, a fresh -water brooklet 
flows towards the sea. Where it leaves the land, it is 
quite a rippling little current ; but, in flowing across 
the sand, it grows shallower and more shallow, and at 
last is quite lost, and dies in the effort to carry its lit- 
tle tribute to the main. 

An article to be made of telling the stories of the 
tiles of an old-fashioned chimney-piece to a child. 

A person conscious that he was soon to die, the hu- 
mor in which he would pay his last visit to familiar 
persons and things. 

A description of the various classes of hotels and 
taverns, and the prominent personages in each. There 
should be some story connected with it, — as of a per- 
son commencing with boarding at a great hotel, and 
gradually, as his means grew less, descending in life, 
till he got below ground into a cellar. 



106 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

A person to be in the possession of something as 
perfect as mortal man has a right to demand ; he tries 
to make it better, and ruins it entirely. 

A person to spend all his life and splendid talents 
in trying to achieve something naturally impossible, 

— as to make a conquest over Nature. 

Meditations about the main gas-pipe of a great city, 

— if the supply were to be stopped, what would hap- 
pen ? How many different scenes it sheds light on ? 
It might be made emblematical of something. 

December 6th. — A fairy tale about chasing Echo 
to her hiding-place. Echo is the voice of a reflection 
in a mirror. 

A house to be built over a natural spring of inflam- 
mable gas, and to be constantly illuminated therewith. 
What moral could be drawn from this ? It is car- 
buretted hydrogen gas, and is cooled from a soft 
shale or slate, which is sometimes bituminous, and con- 
tains more or less carbonate of lime. It appears in 
the vicinity of Lockport and Niagara Falls, and else- 
where in New York. I believe it indicates coal. At 
Fredonia, the whole village is lighted by it. Else- 
where, a farm-house was lighted by it, and no other 
fuel used in the coldest weather. 

Gnomes, or other mischievous little fiends, to be 
represented as burrowing in the hollow teeth of some 
person who has subjected himself to their power. It 
should be a child's story. This should be one of many 
modes of petty torment. They should be contrasted 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 107 

with beneficent fairies, who minister to the pleasures 
of the good. 

A man will undergo great toil and hardship for ends 
that must be many years distant, — as wealth or fame, 

— but none for an end that may be close at hand, — 
as the joys of heaven. 

Insincerity in a man's own heart must make all his 
enjoyments, all that concerns him, unreal ; so that his 
whole life must seem like a merely dramatic represen- 
tation. And this would be the case, even though he 
were surrounded by true-hearted relatives and friends. 

A company of men, none of whom have anything 
worth hoping for on earth, yet who do not look for- 
ward to anything beyond earth ! 

Sorrow to be personified, and its effect on a family 
represented by the way in which the members of the 
family regard this dark-clad and sad-browed inmate. 

A story to show how we are all wronged and wrong- 
ers, and avenge one another. 

To personify winds of various characters. 

A man living a wicked life in one place, and simul- 
taneously a virtuous and religious one in another. 

An ornament to be worn about the person of a lady, 

— as a jewelled heart. After many years, it happens 
to be broken or unscrewed, and a poisonous odor 
comes out. 



108 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

Lieutenant F. W of the navy was an inveterate 

duellist and an unerring shot. He had taken offence 

at Lieutenant F , and endeavored to draw him 

into a duel, following him to the Mediterranean for 
that purpose, and harassing him intolerably. At last, 
both parties being in Massachusetts, F deter- 
mined to fight, and applied to Lieutenant A to 

be his second. A examined into the merits of 

the quarrel, and came to the conclusion that F ■ 

had not given F. W justifiable cause for driving 

him to a duel, and that he ought not to be shot. He 

instructed F in the use of the pistol, and, before 

the meeting, warned him, by all means, to get the first 

fire ; for that, if F. W fired first, he, F , was 

infallibly a dead man, as his antagonist could shoot 

to a hair's-breadth. The parties met ; and F , 

firing immediately on the word's being given, shot 

F. W through the heart. F. W , with a 

most savage expression of countenance, fired, after the 
bullet had gone through his heart, and when the blood 

had entirely left his face, and shot away one of F 's 

side-locks. His face probably looked as if he were 
already in the infernal regions; but afterwards it 
assumed an angelic calmness and repose. 

A company of persons to drink a certain medicinal 
preparation, which would prove a poison, or the con- 
trary, according to their different characters. 

Many persons, without a consciousness of so doing, 
to contribute to some one end ; as to a beggar's feast, 
made up of broken victuals from many tables ; or a 
patch carpet, woven of shreds from innumerable gar- 
ments. 



1837.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 109 

Some very famous jewel or other thing, much talked 
of all over the world. Some person to meet with it, 
and get possession of it in some unexpected manner, 
amid homely circumstances. 

To poison a person or a party of persons with the 
sacramental wine. 

A cloud in the shape of an old woman kneeling, 
with arms extended towards the moon. 

On being transported to strange scenes, we feel as 
if all were unreal. This is but the perception of the 
true unreality of earthly things, made evident by the 
want of congruity between ourselves and them. By 
and by we become mutually adapted, and the percep- 
tion is lost. 

An old looking-glass. Somebody finds out the se- 
cret of making all the images that have been reflected 
in it pass back again across its surface. 

Our Indian races having reared no monuments, like 
the Greeks, Romans, and Egyptians, when they have 
disappeared from the earth their history will appear a 
fable, and they misty phantoms. 

A woman to sympathize with all emotions, but to 
have none of her own. 

A portrait of a person in New England to be recog- 
nized as of the same person represented by a portrait 
in Old England. Having distinguished himself there, 
he had suddenly vanished, and had never been heard 



110 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1837. 

of till he was thus discovered to be identical with a 
distinguished man in New England. 

Men of cold passions have quick eyes. 

A virtuous but giddy girl to attempt to play a trick 
on a man. He sees what she is about, and contrives 
matters so that she throws herself completely into his 
power, and is ruined, — all in jest. 

A letter, written a century or more ago, but which 
has never yet been unsealed. 

A partially insane man to believe himself the Pro- 
vincial Governor or other great official of Massachu- 
setts. The scene might be the Province House. 

A dreadful secret to be communicated to several 
people of various characters, — grave or gay, and 
they all to become insane, according to their charac- 
ters, by the influence of the secret. 

Stories to be told of a certain person's appearance 
in public, of his having been seen in various situations, 
and of his making visits in private circles ; but finally, 
on looking for this person, to come upon his old grave 
and mossy tombstone. 

The influence of a peculiar mind, in close commun- 
ion with another, to drive the latter to insanity. 

To look at a beautiful girl, and picture all the lovers, 
in different situations, whose hearts are centred upon 
her. 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. Ill 

May 11, 1838. — At Boston last week. Items : — 
A young man, with a small mustache, dyed brown, 
reddish from its original light color. He walks with 
an affected gait, his arms crooked outwards, treading 
much on his toes. His conversation is about the 
theatre, where he has a season ticket, — about an ama- 
teur who lately appeared there, and about actresses, 
with other theatrical scandal. — In the smoking-room, 
two checker and backgammon boards; the landlord 
a great player, seemingly a stupid man, but with con- 
siderable shrewdness and knowledge of the world. — 
F -, the comedian, a stout, heavy-looking English- 
man, of grave deportment, with no signs of wit or hu- 
mor, yet aiming at both in conversation, in order to 
support his character. Very steady and regular in 
his life, and parsimonious in his disposition, — worth 
$50,000, made by his profession. — A clergyman, el- 
derly, with a white neck -cloth, very unbecoming, an 
unworldly manner, unacquaintanee with the customs 
of the house, and learning them in a childlike way. A 
ruffle to his shirt, crimped. — A gentleman, young, 
handsome, and sea-flushed, belonging to Oswego, New 
York, but just arrived in port from the Mediterranean ; 
he inquires of me about the troubles in Canada, which 
were first beginning to make a noise when he left the 
country, — whether they are all over. I tell him all 
is finished, except the hanging of the prisoners. Then 
we talk over the matter, and I tell him the fates of 
the principal men, — some banished to New South 
Wales, one hanged, others in prison, others, conspicu- 
ous at first, now almost forgotten. — Apartments of 
private families in the hotel, — what sort of domes- 
ticity there may be in them ; eating in public, with 
no board of their own. The gas that lights the rest 



112 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

of the house lights them also, in the chandelier from 
the ceiling. — A shabby-looking man, quiet, with spec- 
tacles, at first wearing an old, coarse brown frock, 
then appearing in a suit of elderly black, saying noth- 
ing unless spoken to, but talking intelligently when 
addressed. He is an editor, and I suppose printer, 
of a country paper. Among the guests, he holds in- 
tercourse with gentlemen of much more respectable 
appearance than himself, from the same part of the 
country. — Bill of fare ; wines printed on the back, but 
nobody calls for a bottle. Chairs turned down for ex- 
pected guests. Three-pronged steel forks. Cold sup- 
per from nine to eleven p. M. Great, round, mahogany 
table, in the sitting-room, covered with papers. In 
the morning, before and soon after breakfast, gentle- 
men reading the morning papers, while others wait 
for their chance, or try to pick out something from 
the papers of yesterday or longer ago. In the fore- 
noon, the Southern papers are brought in, and thrown 
damp and folded on the table. The eagerness with 
which those who happen to be in the room start up 
and make prize of them. Play-bills, printed on yel- 
low paper, laid upon the table. Towards evening 
comes the " Transcript.'' 

June 15th. — The red light which the sunsets at 
this season diffuse ; there being showery afternoons, 
but the sun setting bright amid clouds, and diffusing 
its radiance over those that are scattered in masses 
all over the sky. It gives a rich tinge to all objects, 
even to those of sombre hues, yet without changing 
the hues. The complexions of people are exceedingly 
enriched by it ; they look warm, and kindled with a 
mild fire. The whole scenery and personages acquire, 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 113 

methinks, a passionate character. A love-scene should 
be laid on such an evening. The trees and the grass 
have now the brightest possible green, there having 
been so many showers alternating with such power- 
ful sunshine. There are roses and tulips and honey- 
suckles, with their sweet perfume ; in short, the splen« 
dor of a more gorgeous climate than ours might be 
brought into the picture. 

The situation of a man in the midst of a crowd, yet 
as completely in the power of another, life and all, as 
if they two were in the deepest solitude. 

Tremont, Boston, June 16th. — Tremendously hot 
weather to-day. Went on board the Cyane to see 
Bridge, the purser. Took boat from the end of Long 
Wharf, with two boatmen who had just landed a man. 
Row round to the starboard side of the sloop, where 
we pass up the steps, and are received by Bridge, who 
introduces us to one of the lieutenants, — Hazard. 
Sailors and midshipmen scattered about, — the mid- 
dies having a foul anchor, that is, an anchor with a 
cable twisted round it, embroidered on the collars of 
their jackets. The officers generally wear blue jackets, 
with lace on the shoulders, white pantaloons, and cloth 
caps. Introduced into the cabin, — a handsome room, 
finished with mahogany, comprehending the width of 
the vessel ; a sideboard with liquors, and above it a 
looking-glass; behind the cabin, an inner room, in 
which is seated a lady, waiting for the captain to come 
on board; on each side of this inner cabin, a large 
and convenient state-room with bed, — the doors open- 
ing into the cabin. This cabin is on a level with the 
quarter-deck, and is covered by the poop-deck. Going 

VOL. IX. 8 



114 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

down below stairs, you come to the ward-room, a 
pretty large room, round which are the state-rooms of 
the lieutenants, the purser, surgeon, etc. A station- 
ary table. The ship's main-mast comes down through 
the middle of the room, and Bridge's chair, at dinner, 
is planted against it. Wine and brandy produced; 
and Bridge calls to the Doctor to drink with him, who 
answers affirmatively from his state-room, and shortly 
after opens the door and makes his appearance. Other 
officers emerge from the side of the vessel, or disap- 
pear into it, in the same way. Forward of the ward- 
room, adjoining it, and on the same level, is the mid- 
shipmen's room, on the larboard side of the vessel, 
not partitioned off, so as to be shut up. On a shelf 
a few books ; one midshipman politely invites us to 
walk in ; another sits writing. Going farther forward, 
on the same level, we come to the crew's department, 
part of which is occupied by the cooking-establish- 
ment, where all sorts of cooking is going on for the 
officers and men. Through the whole of this space, 
ward-room and all, there is barely room to stand up- 
right, without the hat on. The rules of the quarter- 
deck (which extends aft from the main-mast) are, that 
the midshipmen shall not presume to walk on the star- 
board side of it, nor the men to come upon it at all, 
unless to speak to an officer. The poop-deck is still 
more sacred, — the lieutenants being confined to the 
larboard side, and the captain alone having a right to 
the starboard. A marine was pacing the poop-deck, 
being the only guard that I saw stationed in the ves- 
sel, — the more stringent regulations being relaxed 
while she is preparing for sea. While standing on 
the quarter-deck, a great piping at the gangway, and 
the second cutter comes alongside, bringing the consul 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 115 

and some other gentleman to visit the vessel. After 
a while, we are rowed ashore with them, in the same 
boat. Its crew are new hands, and therefore require 
much instruction from the cockswain. We are seated 
under an awning. The guns of the Cyane are medium 
thirty-two pounders; some of them have percussion 
locks. 

At the Tremont, I had Bridge to dine with me; 
iced champagne, claret in glass pitchers. Nothing 
very remarkable among the guests. A wine-merchant, 
French apparently, though he had arrived the day 
before in a bark from Copenhagen : a somewhat cor- 
pulent gentleman, without so good manners as an 
American would have in the same line of life, but 
good-natured, sociable, and civil, complaining of the 
heat. He had rings on his fingers of great weight of 
metal, and one of them had a seal for letters ; brooches 
at the bosom, three in a row, up and down; also a 
gold watch-guard, with a seal appended. Talks of the 
comparative price of living, of clothes, etc., here and 
in Europe. Tells of the prices of wines by the cask 
and pipe. Champagne, he says, is drunk of better 
quality here than where it grows. — A vendor of pat- 
ent medicines, Doctor Jaques, makes acquaintance 
with me, and shows me his recommendatory letters in 
favor of himself and drugs, signed by a long list of 
people. He prefers, he says, booksellers to druggists 
as his agents, and inquired of me about them in this 
town. He seems to be an honest man enough, with 
an intelligent face, and sensible in his talk, but not a 
gentleman, wearing a somewhat shabby brown coat 
and mixed pantaloons, being ill-shaven, and apparently 
not well acquainted with the customs of a fashionable 
hotel. A simplicity about him that is likable, though, 



116 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

I believe, he comes from Philadelphia. — Naval offi- 
cers, strolling about town, bargaining for swords and 
belts, and other military articles ; with the tailor, to 
have naval buttons put on their shore-going coats, and 
for their pantaloons, suited to the climate of the Med- 
iterranean. It is the almost invariable habit of offi- 
cers, when going ashore or staying on shore, to divest 
themselves of all military or naval insignia, and ap- 
pear as private citizens. At the Tremont, young gen- 
tlemen with long earlocks, — straw hats, light, or dark- 
mixed. — The theatre being closed, the play-bills of 
many nights ago are posted up against its walls. 

July 4:th. — A very hot, bright, sunny day ; town 
much thronged ; booths on the Common, selling gin- 
gerbread, sugar-plums, and confectionery, spruce beer, 
lemonade. Spirits forbidden, but probably sold stealth- 
ily. On the top of one of the booths a monkey, with 
a tail two or three feet long. He is fastened by a cord, 
which, getting tangled with the flag over the booth, he 
takes hold and tries to free it. He is the object of 
much attention from the crowd, and played with by 
the boys, who toss up gingerbread to him, while he 
nibbles and throws it down again. He reciprocates 
notice, of some kind or other, with all who notice him. 
There is a sort of gravity about him. A boy pulls his 
long tail, whereat he gives a slight squeak, and for the 
future elevates it as much as possible. Looking at 
the same booth by and by, I find that the poor mon- 
key has been obliged fco betake himself to the top of 
one of the wooden joists that stick up high above. 
There are boys going about with molasses candy, al- 
most melted down in the sun. Shows : A mammoth 
rat ; a collection of pirates, murderers, and the like, in 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 117 

wax. Constables in considerable number, parading 
about with their staves, sometimes conversing with 
each other, producing an effect by their presence, with- 
out having to interfere actively. One or two old salts, 
rather the worse for liquor : in general the people are 
very temperate. At evening the effect of things rather 
more picturesque ; some of the booth-keepers knock- 
ing down the temporary structures, and putting the 
materials in wagons to carry away ; other booths 
lighted up, and the lights gleaming through rents in 
the sail-cloth tops. The customers are rather riotous, 
calling loudly and whimsically for what they want ; a 
young fellow and a girl coming arm in arm ; two girls 
approaching the booth, and getting into conversation 
with the folks thereabout. Perchance a knock-down 
between two half -sober fellows in the crowd : a knock- 
down without a heavy blow, the receiver being scarcely 
able to keep his footing at any rate. Shoutings and 
hallooings, laughter, oaths, — generally a good-natured 
tumult ; and the constables use no severity, but inter- 
fere, if at all, in a friendly sort of way. I talk with 
one about the way in which the day has passed, and 
he bears testimony to the orderliness of the crowd, but 
suspects one booth of selling liquor, and relates one 
scuffle. There is a talkative and witty seller of gin- 
gerbread holding forth to the people from his cart, 
making himself quite a noted character by his readi- 
ness of remark and humor, and disposing of all his 
wares. Late in the evening, during the fire-works, 
people are consulting how they are to get home, — 
many having long miles to walk : a father, with wife 
and children, saying it will be twelve o'clock before 
they reach home, the children being already tired to 
death. The moon beautifully dark-bright, not giving 



118 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

so white a light as sometimes. The girls all look beau- 
tiful and fairy-like in it, not exactly distinct, nor yet 
dim. The different characters of female countenances 
during the day, — mirthful and mischievous, slyly hu- 
morous, stupid, looking genteel generally, but when 
they speak often betraying plebeianism by the tones 
of their voices. Two girls are very tired, — one a 
pale, thin, languid-looking creature ; the other plump, 
rosy, rather overburdened with her own little body. 
Gingerbread figures, in the shape of Jim Crow and 
other popularities. 

In the old burial ground, Charter Street, a slate 
gravestone, carved round the borders, to the memory 
of " Colonel John Hathorne, Esq.," who died in 
1717. This was the witch-judge. The stone is sunk 
deep into the earth, and leans forward, and the grass 
grows very long around it ; and, on account of the 
moss, it was rather difficult to make out the date. 
Other Hathornes lie buried in a range with him on 
either side. In a corner of the burial-ground, close 
under Dr. P 's garden fence, are the most an- 
cient stones remaining in the graveyard ; moss-grown, 
deeply sunken. One to " Dr. John Swinnerton, Phy- 
sician," in 1688 ; another to his wife. There, too, is 
the grave of Nathaniel Mather, the younger brother 
of Cotton, and mentioned in the Magnalia as a hard 
student, and of great promise. " An aged man at 
nineteen years," saith the gravestone. It affected me 
deeply, when I had cleared away the grass from the 
half -buried stone, and read the name. An apple-tree 
or two hang over these old graves, and throw down 
the blighted fruit on Nathaniel Mather's grave, — he 
blighted too. It gives strange ideas, to think how 



1838.J AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 119 

convenient to Dr. P 's family this burial-ground 

is, — the monuments standing almost within arm's 
reach of the side windows of the parlor, — and there 
being a little gate from the back yard through which 
we step forth upon those old graves aforesaid. And 
the tomb of the P. family is right in front, and close 
to the gate. It is now filled, the last being the ref- 
ugee Tory, Colonel P , and his wife. M. P — — 

has trained flowers over this tomb, on account of her 
friendly relations with Colonel P . 

It is not, I think, the most ancient families that 
have tombs, — their ancestry for two or three genera- 
tions having been reposited in the earth before such a 
luxury as a tomb was thought of. Men who founded 
families, and grew rich, a century or so ago, were 
probably the first. 

There is a tomb of the Lyndes, with a slab of slate 
affixed to the brick masonry on one side, and carved 
with a coat of arms. 

July 10th. — A fishing excursion, last Saturday af- 
ternoon, eight or ten miles out in the harbor. A fine 
wind out, which died away towards evening, and 
finally became quite calm. We cooked our fish on a 
rock named " Satan," about forty feet long and twenty 
broad, irregular in its shape, and of uneven surface, 
with pools of water here and there, left by the tide, — 
dark brown rock, or whitish ; there was the excre- 
ment of sea-fowl scattered on it, and a few feathers. 
The water was deep around the rock, and swelling up 
and downward, waving the sea-weed. We built two- 
fires, which, as the dusk deepened, cast a red gleam 
over the rock and the waves, and made the sea, on the 
side away from the sunset, look dismal; but by and by 



120 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838 

up came the moon, red as a house afire, and, as it rose, 
it grew silvery bright, and threw a line of silver across 
the calm sea. Beneath the moon and the horizon, the 
commencement of its track of brightness, there was a 
cone of blackness, or of very black blue. It was after 
nine before we finished our supper, which we ate by 
firelight and moonshine, and then went aboard our 
decked boat again, — no safe achievement in our tick- 
lish little dory. To those remaining in the boat, we 
had looked very picturesque around our fires, and on 
the rock above them, — our statues being apparently 
increased to the size of the sons of Anak. The tide, 
now coming up, gradually dashed over the fires we 
had left, and so the rock again became a desert. The 
wind had now entirely died away, leaving the sea 
smooth as glass, except a quiet swell, and we could 
only float along, as the tide bore us, almost impercep- 
tibly. It was as beautiful a night as ever shone, — 
calm, warm, bright, the moon being at full. On one 
side of us was Marblehead light-house, on the other, 
Baker's Island ; and both, by the influence of the 
moonlight, had a silvery hue, unlike their ruddy bea- 
con tinge in dark nights. They threw long reflections 
across the sea, like the moon. There we floated slowly 
with the tide till about midnight, and then, the tide 
turning, we fastened our vessel to a pole, which 
marked a rock, so as to prevent being carried back by 
the reflux. Some of the passengers turned in below ; 
some stretched themselves on deck ; some walked 
about, smoking cigars. I kept the deck all night. 
Once there was a little cat's-paw of a breeze, where- 
upon we untied ourselves from the pole ; but it almost 
immediately died away, and we were compelled to 
make fast again. At about two o'clock, up rose the 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 121 

morning-star, a round, red, fiery ball, very compara- 
ble to the moon at its rising, and, getting upward, it 
shone marvellously bright, and threw its long reflec- 
tion into the sea, like the moon and the two light- 
houses. It was Venus, and the brightest star I ever 
beheld ; it was in the northeast. The moon made but 
a very small circuit in the sky, though it shone all 
night. The aurora borealis shot upwards to the ze- 
nith, and between two and three o'clock the first 
streak of dawn appeared, stretching far along the 
edge of the eastern horizon, — a faint streak of light ; 
then it gradually broadened and deepened, and be- 
came a rich saffron tint, with violet above, and then 
an ethereal and transparent blue. The saffron became 
intermixed with splendor, kindling and kindling, Ba- 
ker's Island lights being in the centre of the bright- 
ness, so that they were extinguished by it, or at least 
grew invisible. On the other side of the boat, the 
Marblehead light -house still threw out its silvery 
gleam, and the moon shone brightly too ; and its light 
looked very singularly, mingling with the growing 
daylight. It was not like the moonshine, brightening 
as the evening twilight deepens ; for now it threw its 
radiance over the landscape, the green and other tints 
of which were displayed by the daylight, whereas at 
evening all those tints are obscured. It looked like 
a milder sunshine, — a dreamy sunshine, — the sun- 
shine of a world not quite so real and material as this. 
All night we had heard the Marblehead clocks telling 
the hour. Anon, up came the sun, without any bustle, 
but quietly, his antecedent splendors having gilded 
the sea for some time before. It had been cold to- 
wards morning, but now grew warm, and gradually 
burning hot in the sun. A breeze sprang up, but our 



122 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

first use of it was to get aground on Coney Island 
about five o'clock, where we lay till nine or there- 
about, and then floated slowly up to the wharf. The 
roar of distant surf, the rolling of porpoises, the pass- 
ing of shoals of fish, a steamboat smoking along at a 
distance, were the scene on my watch. I fished dur- 
ing the night, and, feeling something on the line, I 
drew up with great eagerness and vigor. It was two 
of those broad -leaved sea -weeds, with stems like 
snakes, both rooted on a stone, — all which came up 
together. Often these sea-weeds root themselves on 
mussels. In the morning, our pilot killed a flounder 
with the boat-hook, the poor fish thinking himself se- 
cure on the bottom. 

Ladurlad, in " The Curse of Kehama," on visiting a 
certain celestial region, the fire in his heart and brain 
died away for a season, but was rekindled again on 
returning to earth. So may it be with me in my pro- 
jected three months' seclusion from old associations. 

Punishment of a miser, — to pay the drafts of his 
heir in his tomb. 

July 13£A. — A show of wax-figures, consisting al- 
most wholly of murderers and their victims, — Gibbs 
and Hansley, the pirates, and the Dutch girl whom 
Gibbs murdered. Gibbs and Hansley were admirably 
done, as natural as life ; and many people who had 
known Gibbs would not, according to the showman, be 
convinced that this wax-figure was not his skin stuffed. 
The two pirates were represented with halters round 
their necks, just ready to be turned off ; and the 
sheriff stood behind them, with his watch, waiting for 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 123 

the moment. The clothes, halter, and Gibbs's hair 
were authentic. E. K. Avery and Cornell, — the for- 
mer a figure in Mack, leaning on the back of a chair, 
in the attitude of a clergyman about to pray ; an ugly 
devil, said to be a good likeness. Ellen Jewett and 
R. P. Robinson, she dressed richly, in extreme fash- 
ion, and very pretty ; he awkward and stiff, it being 
difficult to stuff a figure to look like a gentleman. 
The showman seemed very proud of Ellen Jewett, and 
spoke of her somewhat as if this wax-figure were a 
real creation. Strong and Mrs. Whipple, who to- 
gether murdered the husband of the latter. Lastly 
the Siamese twins. The showman is careful to call 
his exhibition the " Statuary." He walks to and fro 
before the figures, talking of the history of the per- 
sons, the moral lessons to be drawn therefrom, and es- 
pecially of the excellence of the wax-work. He has 
for sale printed histories of the personages. He is a 
friendly, easy-mannered sort of a half-genteel charac- 
ter, whose talk has been moulded by the persons who 
most frequent such a show ; an air of superiority of 
information, a moral instructor, with a great deal of 
real knowledge of the world. He invites his depart- 
ing guests to call again and bring their friends, desir- 
ing to know whether they are pleased ; telling that he 
had a thousand people on the 4th of July, and that 
they were all perfectly satisfied. He talks with the 
female visitors, remarking on Ellen Jewett' s person 
and dress to them, he having " spared no expense in 
dressing her ; and all the ladies say that a dress never 
set better, and he thinks he never knew a handsomer 
female." He goes to and fro, snuffing the candles, 
and now and then holding one to the face of a favorite 
figure. Ever and anon, hearing steps upon the stair- 



124 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838» 

case, he goes to admit a new visitor. The visitors, — 
a half-bumpkin, half country-squire-like man, who has 
something of a knowing air, and yet looks and listens 
with a good deal of simplicity and faith, smiling be- 
tween whiles ; a mechanic of the town ; several decent- 
looking girls and women, who eye Ellen herself with 
more interest than the other figures, — women having 
much curiosity about such ladies ; a gentlemanly sort 
of person, who looks somewhat ashamed of himself 
for being there, and glances at me knowingly, as if to 
intimate that he was conscious of being out of place ; 
a boy or two, and myself, who examine wax faces and 
faces of flesh with equal interest. A political or other 
satire might be made by describing a show of wax- 
figures of the prominent public men ; and by the re 
marks of the showman and the spectators, their char 
acters and public standing might be expressed. Anc* 

the incident of Judge Tyler as related by E might 

be introduced. 

A series of strange, mysterious, dreadful events to 
occur, wholly destructive of a person's happiness. He 
to impute them to various persons and causes, but ulti- 
mately finds that he is himself the sole agent. Moral, 
that our welfare depends on ourselves. 

The strange incident in the court of Charles IX. of 
France : he and five other maskers being attired in 
coats of linen covered with pitch and bestuck with 
flax to represent hairy savages. They entered the 
hall dancing, the Ave being fastened together, and the 
king in front. By accident the five were set on fire 
with a torch. Two were burned to death on the spot, 
two afterwards died; one fled to the buttery, and 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 125 

jumped into a vessel of water. It might be repre- 
sented as the fate of a squad of dissolute men. 

A perception, for a moment, of one's eventual and 
moral self, as if it were another person, — the obser- 
vant faculty being separated, and looking intently at 
the qualities of the character. There is a surprise 
when this happens, — this getting out of one's self, — - 
and then the observer sees how queer a fellow he is. 

July 21th. — Left home [Salem] on the 23d in- 
stant. To Boston by stage, and took the afternoon 
cars for Worcester. A little boy returning from the 
city, several miles, with a basket of empty custard- 
cups, the contents of which he had probably sold at 
the depot. Stopped at the Temperance House. An 
old gentleman, Mr. Phillips, of Boston, got into con- 
versation with me, and inquired very freely as to 
my character, tastes, habits, and circumstances, — a 
freedom sanctioned by his age, his kindly and benefi- 
cent spirit, and the wisdom of his advice. It is strange 
how little impertinence depends on what is actually 
said, but rather on the manner and motives of saying 
it. " I want to do you good," said he with warmth, 
after becoming, apparently, moved by my communica- 
tions. " Well, sir," replied I, " I wish you could, for 
both our sakes ; for I have no doubt it would be a 
great satisfaction to you." He asked the most direct 
questions of another young man; for instance, "Are 
you married?" having before ascertained that point 
with regard to myself. He told me by all means to 
act, in whatever way ; observing that he himself would 
have no objection to be a servant, if no other mode 
of action presented itself. 



126 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

The landlord of the tavern, a decent, active, grave, 
attentive personage, giving me several cards of his 
house to distribute on my departure. A judge, a 
stout, hearty country squire, looking elderly; a hale 
and rugged man, in a black coat, and thin, light pan- 
taloons. 

Started for Northampton at half past nine in the 
morning. A respectable sort of man and his son on 
their way to Niagara, — - grocers, I believe, and calcu- 
lating how to perform the tour, subtracting as few 
days as possible from the shop. Somewhat inexpe- 
rienced travellers, and comparing everything advan- 
tageously or otherwise with Boston customs ; and con- 
sidering themselves a long way from home, while yet 
short of a hundred miles from it. Two ladies, rather 
good-looking. I rode outside nearly all day, and was 
very sociable with the driver and another outside pas- 
senger. Towards night, took up an essence-vendor for 
a short distance. He was returning home, after hav- 
ing been out on a tour two or three weeks, and nearly 
exhausted his stock. He was not exclusively an es- 
sence-pedlar, having a large tin box, which had been 
filled with dry goods, combs, jewelry, etc., now mostly 
sold out. His essences were of aniseseed, cloves, red- 
cedar, wormwood, together with opodeldoc, and an oil 
for the hair. These matters are concocted at Ash- 
field, and the pedlars are sent about with vast quan- 
tities. Cologne-water is among the essences manufac- 
tured, though the bottles have foreign labels on them. 
The pedlar was good-natured and communicative, and 
spoke very frankly about his trade, which he seemed 
to like better than farming, though his experience of 
it is yet brief. He spoke of the trials of temper to 
which pedlars are subjected, but said that it was neces* 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 127 

sary to be forbearing, because the same road must be 
travelled again and again. The pedlars find satisfac- 
tion for all contumelies in making good bargains out 
of their customers. This man was a pedlar in quite a 
small way, making but a narrow circuit, and carrying 
no more than an open basket full of essences ; but 
some go out with wagon-loads. He himself contem- 
plated a trip westward, in which case he would send 
on quantities of his wares ahead to different stations. 
He seemed to enjoy the intercourse and seeing of the 
world. He pointed out a rough place in the road, 
where his stock of essences had formerly been broken 
by a jolt of the stage. What a waste of sweet smells 
on the desert air ! The essence-labels stated the effi- 
cacy of the stuffs for various complaints of children 
and grown people. The driver was an acquaintance 
of the pedlar, and so gave him his drive for nothing, 
though the pedlar pretended to wish to force some 
silver into his hand ; and afterwards he got down to 
water the horses, while the driver was busied with 
other matters. This driver was a little, dark raga- 
muffin, apparently of irascible temper, speaking with 
great disapprobation of his way-bill not being timed 
accurately, but so as to make it appear as if he were 
longer upon the road than he was. As he spoke, the 
blood darkened in his cheek, and his eye looked omi- 
nous and angry, as if he were enraged with the person 
to whom he was speaking ; yet he had not real grit, 
for he had never said a word of his grievances to 
those concerned. " I mean to tell them of it by and 
by. I won't bear it more than three or four times 
more," said he. 

Left Northampton the next morning, between one 
and two o'clock. Three other passengers, whose faces 



128 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

were not visible for some hours ; so we went on 
through unknown space, saying nothing, glancing 
forth sometimes to see the gleam of the lanterns on 
wayside objects. 

How very desolate looks a forest when seen in 
this way, — as if, should you venture one step within 
its wild, tangled, many -stemmed, and dark-shadowed 
verge, you would inevitably be lost forever. Some- 
times we passed a house, or rumbled through a village, 
stopping perhaps to arouse some drowsy postmaster, 
who appeared at the door in shirt and pantaloons, 
yawning, received the mail, returned it again, and was 
yawning when last seen. A few words exchanged 
among the passengers, as they roused themselves from 
their half-slumbers, or dreamy, slumber-like abstrac- 
tion. Meantime dawn broke, our faces became par- 
tially visible, the morning air grew colder, and finally 
cloudy day came on. We found ourselves driving 
through quite a romantic country, with hills or moun- 
tains on all sides, a stream on one side, bordered by a 
high, precipitous bank, up which would have grown 
pines, only that, losing their footholds, many of them 
had slipped downward. The road was not the safest 
in the world ; for often the carriage approached with- 
in two or three feet of a precipice ; but the driver, a 
merry fellow, lolled on his box, with his feet protrud- 
ing horizontally, and rattled on at the rate of ten 
miles an hour. Breakfast between four and five, — 
newly caught trout, salmon, ham, boiled eggs, and 
other niceties, — truly excellent. A bunch of pick- 
erel, intended for a tavern-keeper farther on, was 
carried by the stage-driver. The drivers carry a 
" time-watch " enclosed in a small wooden case, with 
a lock, so that it may be known in what time they 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 129 

perform their stages. They are allowed so many- 
hours and minutes to do their work, and their desire 
to go as fast as possible, combined with that of keep- 
ing their horses in good order, produces about a right 
medium. 

One of the passengers was a young man who had 
been in Pennsylvania, keeping a school, — a genteel 
enough young man, but not a gentleman. He took 
neither supper nor breakfast, excusing himself from 
one as being weary with riding all day, and from the 
other because it was so early. He attacked me for a 
subscription for " building up a destitute church," of 
which he had taken an agency, and had collected two 
or three hundred dollars, but wanted as many thou- 
sands. Betimes in the morning, on the descent of a 
mountain, we arrived at a house where dwelt the 
married sister of the young man, whom he was going 
to visit. 

He alighted, saw his trunk taken off, and then, hav- 
ing perceived his sister at the door, and turning to bid 
us farewell, there was a broad smile, even a laugh of 
pleasure, which did him more credit with me than any- 
thing else ; for hitherto there had been a disagreeable 
scornful twist upon his face, perhaps, however, merely 
superficial. I saw, as the stage drove off, his comely 
sister approaching with a lighted-up face to greet him, 
and one passenger on the front seat beheld them meet. 
" Is it an affectionate greeting ? " inquired I. " Yes," 
said he, " I should like to share it " ; whereby I con- 
cluded that there was a kiss exchanged. 

The highest point of our journey was at Windsor, 
where we could see leagues around over the mountain, 
a terribly bare, bleak spot, fit for nothing but sheep, 
and without shelter of woods. We rattled downward 



130 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

into a warmer region, beholding as we went the sun 
shining on portions of the landscape, miles ahead of 
us, while we were yet in dullness and gloom. It is 
probable that during a part of the stage the mists 
around us looked like sky clouds to those in the lower 
regions. Think of driving a stage-coach through the 
clouds ! Seasonably in the forenoon we arrived at 
Pittsfield. 

Pittsfield is a large village, quite shut in by moun- 
tain walls, generally extending like a rampart on all 
sides of it, but with insulated great hills rising here 
and there in the outline. The area of the town is 
level ; its houses are handsome, mostly wooden and 
white ; but some are of brick, painted deep red, the 
bricks being not of a healthy, natural color. There 
are handsome churches, Gothic and others, and a 
court-house and an academy; the court-house having 
a marble front. There is a small mall in the cen- 
tre of the town, and in the centre of the mall rises an 
elm of the loftiest and straightest stem that ever I 
beheld, without a branch or leaf upon it till it has 
soared seventy or perhaps a hundred feet into the air. 
The top branches unfortunately have been shattered 
somehow or other, so that it does not cast a broad 
shade ; probably they were broken by their own pon- 
derous foliage. The central square of Pittsfield pre- 
sents all the bustle of a thriving village, — the farmers 
of the vicinity in light wagons, sulkies, or on horse- 
back ; stages at the door of the Berkshire Hotel, under 
the stoop of which sit or lounge the guests, stage-peo- 
ple, and idlers, observing or assisting in the arrivals 
and departures. Huge trunks and bandboxes unladed 
and laded. The courtesy shown to ladies in aiding 
them to alight, in a shower, under umbrellas. The duli 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 131 

looks of passengers, who have driven all night, scarcely- 
brightened by the excitement of arriving at a new 
place. The stage agent demanding the names of those 
who are going on, — some to Lebanon Springs, some 
to Albany. The toddy-stick is still busy at these Berk- 
shire public-houses. At dinner soup preliminary, in 
city style. Guests : the court people ; Briggs, member 
of Congress, attending a trial here ; horse - dealers, 
country squires, store-keepers in the village, etc. My 
room, a narrow crib overlooking a back court-yard, 
where a young man and a lad were drawing water for 
the maid - servants, — their jokes, especially those of 
the lad, of whose wit the elder fellow, being a block- 
head himself, was in great admiration, and declared to 
another that he knew as much as them both. Yet he 
was not very witty. Once in a while the maid-ser- 
vants would come to the door, and hear and respond 
to their jokes, with a kind of restraint, yet both per- 
mitting and enjoying them. 

After or about sunset there was a heavy shower, the 
thunder rumbling round and round the mountain wall, 
and the clouds stretching from rampart to rampart* 
When it abated, the clouds in all parts of the visible 
heavens were tinged with glory from the west ; some 
that hung low being purple and gold, while the higher 
ones were gray. The slender curve of the new moon 
was also visible, brightening amidst the fading bright- 
ness of the sunny part of the sky. There are marble- 
quarries in and near Pittsfield, which accounts for the 
fact that there are none but marble gravestones in the 
burial-grounds ; some of the monuments well carved ; 
but the marble does not withstand the wear and tear 
of time and weather so well as the imported marble, 
and the sculpture soon loses its sharp outline. The 



132 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

door of one tomb, a wooden door, opening in the side 
of a green mound, surmounted by a marble obelisk, 
having been shaken from its hinges by the late explo- 
sion of the powder-house, and incompletely repaired, I 
peeped in at the crevices, and saw the coffins. It was 
the tomb of Rev. Thomas Allen, first minister of Pitts- 
field, deceased in 1810. It contained three coffins, all 
with white mould on their tops : one, a small child's, 
rested upon another, and the other was on the opposite 
side of the tomb, and the lid was considerably dis- 
placed ; but the tomb being dark, I could see neither- 
corpse nor skeleton. 

Marble also occurs here in North Adams, and thus 
some very ordinary houses have marble doorsteps, and 
even the stone walls are built of fragments of marble. 

Wednesday, 26th. — Left Pittsfleld at about eight 
o'clock in the Bennington stage, intending to go to 
Williamstown. Inside passengers, — a new-married 
couple taking a jaunt. The lady, with a clear, pale 
complexion, and a rather pensive cast of countenance, 
slender, and with a genteel figure ; the bridegroom, a 
shopkeeper in New York probably, a young man with 
a stout black beard, black eyebrows, which formed 
one line across his forehead. They were very loving ; 
and while the stage stopped, I watched them, quite 
entranced in each other, both leaning sideways against 
the back of the coach, and perusing their mutual come- 
liness, and apparently making complimentary observa- 
tions upon it to one another. The bride appeared the 
most absorbed and devoted, referring her whole being 
to him. The gentleman seemed in a most paradisiacal 
mood, smiling ineffably upon his bride, and, when she 
spoke, responding to her with a benign expression of 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 133 

matrimonial sweetness, and, as it were, compassion for 
the "weaker vessel," mingled with great love and 
pleasant humor. It was very droll. The driver peeped 
into the coach once, and said that he had his arm 
round her waist. He took little freedoms with her, 
tapping her with his cane, — love - pats ; and she 
seemed to see nothing amiss. They kept eating gin- 
gerbread all along the road, and dined heartily not- 
withstanding. 

Our driver was a slender, lathe-like, round-backed, 
rough-bearded, thin-visaged, middle-aged Yankee, who 
became very communicative during our drive. He 
was not bred a stage-driver, but had undertaken the 
business temporarily, as a favor to his brother-in-law. 
He was a native of these Berkshire mountains, but 
had formerly emigrated to Ohio, and had returned for 
a time to try the benefit of her native air on his wife's 
declining health, — she having complaints of a con- 
sumptive nature. He pointed out the house where he 
was married to her, and told the name of the country 
squire who tied the knot. His wife has little or no 
chance of recovery, and he said he would never marry 
again, — this resolution being expressed in answer to 
a remark of mine relative to a second marriage. He 
has no children. I pointed to a hill at some distance 
before us, and asked what it was. " That, sir," said 
he, " is a very high hill. It is known by the name of 
Graylock." He seemed to feel that this was a more 
poetical epithet than Saddleback, which is a more 
usual name for it. Graylock, or Saddleback, is quite 
a respectable mountain ; and I suppose the former 
name has been given to it because it often has a gray 
cloud, or lock of gray mist, upon its head. It does 
not ascend into a peak, but heaves up a round ball, 



134 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

and has supporting ridges on each side. Its summit 
is not bare, like that of Mount Washington, but cov- 
ered with forests. The driver said, that several years 
since the students of Williams College erected a build- 
ing for an observatory on the top of the mountain, and 
employed him to haul the materials for constructing 
it ; and he was the only man who had driven an ox- 
team up Graylock. It was necessary to drive the team 
round and round, in ascending. President Griffin 
rode up on horseback. 

Along our road we passed villages, and often facto- 
ries, the machinery whirring, and girls looking out of 
the windows at the stage, with heads averted from their 
tasks, but still busy. These factories have two, three, 
or more boarding-houses near them, two stories high, 
and of double length, — often with bean-vines running 
up round the doors, and with altogether a domestic 
look. There are several factories in different parts of 
North Adams, along the banks of a stream, — a wild, 
highland rivulet, which, however, does vast work of 
a civilized nature. It is strange to see such a rough 
and untamed stream as it looks to be so subdued to 
the purposes of man, and making cottons and woollens, 
sawing boards and marbles, and giving employment 
to so many men and girls. And there is a sort of pict- 
uresqueness in finding these factories, supremely arti- 
ficial establishments, in the midst of such wild scenery. 
For now the stream will be flowing through a rude 
forest, with the trees erect and dark, as when the In- 
dians fished there ; and it brawls and tumbles and ed- 
dies over its rock-strewn current. Perhaps there is a 
precipice, hundreds of feet high, beside it, down which, 
by heavy rains, or the melting of snows, great pine- 
trees have slid or fallen headlong, and lie at the bot" 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 135 

torn, or half-way down, while their brethren seem to be 
gazing at their fall from the summit, and anticipating 
a like fate. And then, taking a turn in the road, be- 
hold these factories and their range of boarding-houses, 
with the girls looking out of the windows, as afore- 
said ! And perhaps the wild scenery is all around the 
very site of the factory, and mingles its impression 
strangely with those opposite ones. These observa- 
tions were made during a walk yesterday. 

I bathed in a pool of the stream that was out of 
sight, and where its brawling waters were deep enough 
to cover me, when I lay at length. A part of the road 
along which I walked was on the edge of a precipice, 
falling down straight towards the stream ; and in one 
place the passage of heavy loads had sunk it, so that 
soon, probably, there will be an avalanche, perhaps 
carrying a stage-coach or heavy wagon down into the 
bed of the river. 

I met occasional wayfarers ; once two women in a 
cart, — decent, brown - visaged, country matrons, — 
and then an apparent doctor, of whom there are seven 
or thereabouts in North Adams ; for though this vi- 
cinity is very healthy, yet the physicians are obliged 
to ride considerable distances among the mountain 
towns, and their practice is very laborious. A nod is 
always exchanged between strangers meeting on the 
road. This morning an underwitted old man met me 
on a walk, and held a pretty long conversation, insist- 
ing upon shaking hands (to which I was averse, lest 
his hand should not be clean), and insisting on his 
right to do so, as being " a friend of mankind." He 
was a gray, bald-headed, wrinkled-visaged figure, de- 
cently dressed, with cowhide shoes, a coat on one arm, 
and an umbrella on the other, and said that he was 



136 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

going to see a widow in the neighborhood. Finding 
that I was not provided with a wife, he recommended 
a certain maiden of forty years, who had three hun- 
dred acres of land. He spoke of his children, who are 
proprietors of a circus establishment, and have taken 
a granddaughter to bring up in their way of life ; and 
he gave me a message to tell them in case we should 
meet. While this old man is wandering among the 
hills, his children are the gaze of multitudes. He told 
me the place where he was born, directing me to it by 
pointing to a wreath of mist which lay on the side of 
a mountain ridge, which he termed " the smoke yon- 
der." Speaking of the widow, he said : " My wife 
has been dead these seven years, and why should I 
not enjoy myself a little ? " His manner was full of 
quirks and quips and eccentricities, waving his um- 
brella, and gesticulating strangely, with a great deal 
of action. I suppose, to help his natural foolishness, 
he had been drinking. We parted, he exhorting me 
not to forget his message to his sons, and I shouting 
after him a request to be remembered to the widow. 
Conceive something tragical to be talked about, and 
much might be made of this interview in a wild road 
among the hills, with Graylock, at a great distance, 
looking sombre and angry, by reason of the gray, 
heavy mist upon his head. 

The morning was cloudy, and all the near landscape 
lay unsunned ; but there was sunshine on distant 
tracts, in the valleys, and in specks upon the moun- 
tain-tops. Between the ridges of hills there are long, 
wide, deep valleys, extending for miles and miles, with 
houses scattered along them. A bulky company of 
mountains, swelling round head over round head, rises 
insulated by such broad vales from the surrounding 
ridges. 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 137 

I ought to have mentioned that I arrived at North 
Adams in the forenoon of the 26th, and, liking the as- 
pect of matters indifferently well, determined to make 
my headquarters here for a short time. 

On the road to Northampton, we passed a tame 
crow, which was sitting on the peak of a barn. The 
crow flew down from its perch, and followed us a great 
distance, hopping along the road, and flying with its 
large, black, flapping wings, from post to post of the 
fence, or from tree to tree. At last he gave up the 
pursuit with a croak of disappointment. The driver 
said, perhaps correctly, that the crow had scented some 
salmon which was in a basket under the seat, and that 
this was the secret of his pursuing us. This would be 
a terrific incident if it were a dead body that the crow 
scented, instead of a basket of salmon. Suppose, for 
instance, in a coach travelling along, that one of the 
passengers suddenly should die, and that one of the 
indications of his death would be this deportment of 
the crow. 

July 29th. — Kemarkable characters : — A disagree- 
able figure, waning from middle age, clad in a pair of 
tow homespun pantaloons, and a very soiled shirt, 
barefoot, and with one of his feet maimed by an axe ; 
also an arm amputated two or three inches below the 
elbow. His beard of a week's growth, grim and 
grisly, with a general effect of black ; altogether a dis- 
gusting object. Yet he has the signs of having been 
a handsome man in his idea, though now such a beastly 
figure that probably no living thing but his great dog 
would touch him without an effort. Coming to the 
stoop, where several persons were sitting, " Good 
morning, gentlemen,*' said the wretch. Nobody an- 



138 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

swered for a time, till at last one said, " I don't know 
whom you speak to : not to me, I 'm sure " (meaning 
that he did not claim to be a gentleman). " Why I 
thought I spoke to you all at once," replied the figure, 
laughing. So he sat himself down on the lower step 
of the stoop, and began to talk ; and, the conversation 
being turned upon his bare feet by one of the com- 
pany, he related the story of his losing his toes by the 
glancing aside of an axe, and with what great forti- 
tude he bore it. Then he made a transition to the loss 
of his arm, and, setting his teeth and drawing in his 
breath, said that the pain was dreadful ; but this, too, 
he seems to have borne like an Indian ; and a person 
testified to his fortitude by saying that he did not sup- 
pose there was any feeling in him, from observing 
how he bore it. The man spoke of the pain of cut- 
ting the muscles, and the particular agony at one mo- 
ment, while the bone was being sawed asunder ; and 
there was a strange expression of remembered an- 
guish, as he shrugged his half-limb, and described the 
matter. Afterwards, in a reply to a question of mine, 
whether he still seemed to feel the hand that had been 
amputated, he answered that he did always ; and, bar- 
ing the stump, he moved the severed muscles, saying, 
" There is the thumb, there the forefinger," and so on. 
Then he talked to me about phrenology, of which he 
seems a firm believer and skilful practitioner, telling 
how he had hit upon the true character of many peo- 
ple. There was a great deal of sense and acuteness 
in his talk, and something of elevation in his expres- 
sions, — perhaps a studied elevation, — and a sort of 
courtesy in his manner ; but his sense had something 
out of the way in it ; there was something wild and 
ruined and desperate in his talk, though I can hardly 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 139 

say what it was. There was a trace of the gentleman 
and man of intellect through his deep degradation ; and 
a pleasure in intellectual pursuits, and an acuteness 
and trained judgment, which bespoke a mind once 
strong and cultivated. " My study is man," said he 
And, looking at me, " I do not know your name," he 
said, " but there is something of the hawk-eye about 
you, too." 

This man was formerly a lawyer in good practice ; 
but, taking to drinking, was reduced to the lowest 
state. Yet not the lowest ; for after the amputation 
of his arm, being advised by divers persons to throw 
himself upon the public for support, he told them 
that, even if he should lose his other arm, he would 
still be able to support himself and a servant. Cer- 
tainly he is a strong-minded and iron-constitutioned 
man ; but, looking at the stump of his arm, he said 
that the pain of the mind was a thousand times greater 
than the pain of the body. " That hand could make 
the pen go fast," said he. Among people in general, 
he does not seem to have any greater consideration in 
his ruin because of his former standing in society. He 
supports himself by making soap ; and, on account of 
the offals used in that business, there is probably 
rather an evil odor in his domicile. Talking about a 
dead horse near his house, he said that he could not 
bear the scent of it. " I should not think you could 
smell carrion in that house," said a stage agent. 
Whereupon the soap-maker dropped his head, with a 
little snort, as it were, of wounded feeling ; but imme- 
diately said that he took all in good part. There was 
an old squire of the village, a lawyer probably, whose 
demeanor was different, — with a distance, yet with a 
kindliness; for he remembered the times when they 



140 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

met on equal terms. " You and I," said the squire, 
alluding to their respective troubles and sicknesses, 
" would have died long ago, if we had not had the cour- 
age to live." The poor devil kept talking to me long 
after everybody else had left the stoop, giving vent to 
much practical philosophy, and just observation on the 
ways of men, mingled with rather more assumption of 
literature and cultivation than belonged to the present 
condition of his mind. Meantime his great dog, a 
cleanly looking and not ill-bred dog, being the only 
decent attribute appertaining to his master, — a well- 
natured dog, too, and receiving civilly any demonstra- 
tion of courtesy from other people, though preserving a 
certain distance of deportment, — this great dog grew 
weary of his master's lengthy talk, and expressed his 
impatience to be gone by thrusting himself between 
his legs, rolling over on his back, seizing his ragged 
trousers, or playfully taking his maimed, bare foot 
into his mouth, — using, in short, the kindly and hu- 
morous freedom of a friend, with a wretch to whom 
all are free enough, but none other kind. His master 
rebuked him, but with kindness too, and not so that 
the dog felt himself bound to desist, though he seemed 
willing to allow his master all the time that CQuld pos- 
sibly be spared. And at last, having said many times 
that he must go and shave and dress himself, — and as 
his beard had been at least a week growing, it might 
have seemed almost a week's work to get rid of it, — 
he rose from the stoop and went his way, — a forlorn 
and miserable thing in the light of the cheerful sum- 
mer morning. Yet he seems to keep his spirits up, 
and still preserves himself a man among men, asking 
nothing from them ; nor is it clearly perceptible what 
right they have to scorn him, though he seems to ac 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 141 

quiesce, in a manner, in their doing so. And yet he 
cannot wholly have lost his self-respect ; and doubtless 
there were persons on the stoop more grovelling than 
himself. 

Another character : — A blacksmith of fifty or up- 
wards, a corpulent figure, big in the paunch and enor- 
mous in the rear ; yet there is such an appearance of 
strength and robustness in his frame, that his corpu- 
lence appears very proper and necessary to him. A 
pound of flesh could not be spared from his abun- 
dance, any more than from the leanest man ; and he 
walks about briskly, without any panting or symptom 
of labor or pain in his motion. He has a round, jolly 
face, always mirthful and humorous and shrewd, and 
the air of a man well to do, and well respected, yet 
not caring much about the opinions of men, because 
his independence is sufficient to itself. Nobody would 
take him for other than a man of some importance in 
the community, though his summer dress is a tow-cloth 
pair of pantaloons, a shirt not of the cleanest, open at 
the breast, and the sleeves rolled up at the elbows, and 
a straw hat. There is not such a vast difference be- 
tween this costume and that of Lawj^er H above 

mentioned, yet never was there a greater diversity of 
appearance than between these two men ; and a glance 
at them would be sufficient to mark the difference. 
The blacksmith loves his glass, and comes to the tav- 
ern for it, whenever it seems good to him, not calling 
for it slyly and shyly, but marching steadily to the 
bar, or calling across the room for it to be prepared. 
He speaks with great bitterness against the new li- 
cense law, and vows if it be not repealed by fair 
means it shall be by violence, and that he will be as 
ready to cock his rifle for such a cause as for any 



142 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838, 

other. On this subject liis talk is really fierce ; but 
as to all other matters he is good-natured and good- 
hearted, fond of joke, and shaking his jolly sides with 
frequent laughter. His conversation has much strong, 
unlettered sense, imbued with humor, as everybody's 
talk is in New England. 

He takes a queer position sometimes, — queer for 
his figure particularly, — straddling across a chair, 
facing the back, with his arms resting thereon, and 
his chin on them, for the benefit of conversing closely 
with some one. When he has spent as much time 
in the bar-room or under the stoop as he chooses to 
spare, he gets up at once, and goes off with a brisk, 
vigorous pace. He owns a mill, and seems to be pros- 
perous in the world. I know no man who seems more 
like a man, more indescribably human, than this sturdy 
blacksmith. 

There came in the afternoon a respectable man in 
gray homespun cloth, who arrived in a wagon, I be- 
lieve, and began to inquire, after supper, about a cer- 
tain new kind of mill machinery. Being referred to 
the blacksmith, who owned one of these mills, the 
stranger said that he had come from Vermont to learn 
about the matter. " What may I call your name ? " 
said he to the blacksmith. " My name is Hodge," re- 
plied the latter. " I believe I have heard of you," 
said the stranger. Then they colloquied at much 
length about the various peculiarities and merits of 
the new invention. The stranger continued here two 
or three days, making his researches, and forming ac- 
quaintance with several millwrights and others. He 
was a man evidently of influence in his neighborhood, 
and the tone of his conversation was in the style of 
one accustomed to be heard with deference, though all 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 143 

in a plain and homely way. Lawyer H — took no- 
tice of this manner ; for the talk being about the na- 
ture of soap, and the evil odor arising from that pro- 
cess, the stranger joined in. " There need not be any 
disagreeable smell in making soap," said he. "Now 
we are to receive a lesson," said H , and the re- 
mark was particularly apropos to the large wisdom of 
the stranger's tone and air. 

Then he gave an account of the process in his do- 
mestic establishment, saying that he threw away the 
whole offals of the hog, as not producing any soap, 
and preserved the skins of the intestines for sausages. 
He seemed to be hospitable, inviting those with whom 
he did business to take "a mouthful of dinner" with 
him, and treating them with liquors ; for he was not 
an utter temperance man, though moderate in his pota- 
tions. I suspect he would turn out a pattern character 
of the upper class of New England yeomen, if I had an 
opportunity of studying him. Doubtless he had been 
selectman, representative, and justice, and had filled 
all but weighty offices. He was highly pleased with 
the new mill contrivance, and expressed his opinion 
that, when his neighbors saw the success of his, it 
would be extensively introduced into that vicinity. 

Mem. The hostlers at taverns call the money given 
them " pergasus," — corrupted from " perquisites." 
Otherwise " knock-down money." 

Remarkable character : — A travelling surgeon-den- 
tist, who has taken a room in the North Adams House, 
and sticks up his advertising bills on the pillars of the 
piazza, and all about the town. He is a tall, slim 
young man, six feet two, dressed in a country-made 
coat of light blue (taken, as he tells me, in exchange 
for dental operations), black pantaloons, and clumsy s 



144 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

cowhide boots. Self-conceit is very strongly expressed 
in his air ; and a doctor once told him that he owed 
his life to that quality ; for, by keeping himself so 
stiffly upright, he opens his chest, and counteracts 
a consumptive tendency. He is not only a dentist, 
which trade he follows temporarily, but a licensed 
preacher of the Baptist persuasion, and is now on his 
way to the West to seek a place of settlement in his 
spiritual vocation. Whatever education he possesses, 
he has acquired by his own exertions since the age of 
twenty-one, — he being now twenty - four. We talk 
together very freely : and he has given me an account, 
among other matters, of all his love-affairs, which are 
rather curious, as illustrative of the life of a smart 
young country fellow in relation to the gentle sex. 
Nothing can exceed the exquisite self-conceit which 
characterizes these confidences, and which is expressed 
inimitably in his face, his upturned nose, and mouth, 
so as to be truly a caricature ; and he seems strangely 
to find as much food for his passion in having been 
jilted once or twice as in his conquests. It is curious 
to notice his revengeful feeling against the false ones, 
— hidden from himself, however, under the guise of 
religious interest, and desire that they may be cured 
of their follies. 

A little boy named Joe, who haunts about the bar- 
room and the stoop, four years old, in a thin, short 
jacket, and full-breeched trousers, and bare feet. The 
men tease him, and put quids of tobacco in his mouth, 
under pretence of giving him a fig ; and he gets en- 
raged, and utters a peculiar, sharp, spiteful cry, and 
strikes at them with a stick, to their great mirth. He 
is always in trouble, yet will not keep away. They 
despatch him with two or three cents to buy candy 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 145 

and nuts and raisins. They set him down in a niche 
of the door, and tell him to remain there a day and 
a half : he sits down very demurely, as if he meant to 
fulfil his penance ; but a moment after, behold ! there 
is little Joe capering across the street to join two or 
three boys who are playing in a wagon. Take this 
boy as the germ of a tavern-haunter, a country roue, 
to spend a wild and brutal youth, ten years of his 
prime in the State Prison, and his old age in the poor- 
house. 

There are a great many dogs kept in the village, 
and many of the travellers also have dogs. Some are 
almost always playing about ; and if a cow or a pig be 
passing, two or three of them scamper forth for an at- 
tack. Some of the younger sort chase pigeons, wheel- 
ing as they wheel. If a contest arises between two 
dogs, a number of others come with huge barking to 
join the fray, though I believe that they do not really 
take any active part in the contest, but swell the up- 
roar by way of encouraging the combatants. When 
a traveller is starting from the door, his dog often 
gets in front of the horse, placing his forefeet down, 
looking the horse in the face, and barking loudly; 
then, as the horse comes on, running a little farther, 
and repeating the process ; and this he does in spite 
of his master's remonstrances, till, the horse being 
fairly started, the dog follows on quietly. One dog, a 
diminutive little beast, has been taught to stand on 
his hind legs, and rub his face with his paw, which 
he does with an aspect of much endurance and depre- 
cation. Another springs at people whom his master 
points out to him, barking and pretending to bite. 
These tricks make much mirth in the bar-room. All 
dogs, of whatever different sizes and dissimilar varie- 

VOL. IX. 10 



146 AMERICAN NOTE-BOORS. [1838. 

ties, acknowledge the common bond of species among 
themselves, and the largest one does not disdain to 
suffer his tail to be smelt of, nor to reciprocate that 
courtesy to the smallest. They appear to take much 
interest in one another ; but there is always a degree 
of caution between two strange dogs when they meet. 

July 31st — A visit to what is called " Hudson's 
Cave," or " Hudson's Falls," the tradition being that 
a man by the name of Henry Hudson, many years 
ago, chasing a deer, the deer fell over the place, which 
then first became known to white men. It is not 
properly a cave, but a fissure in a huge ledge of mar- 
ble, through which a stream has been for ages forcing 
its way, and has left marks of its gradually wearing 
power on the tall crags, having made curious hollows 
from the summit down to the level which it has 
reached at the present day. The depth of the fissure 
in some places is at least fifty or sixty feet, perhaps 
more, and at several points it nearly closes over, and 
often the sight of the sky is hidden by the interpo- 
sition of masses of the marble crags. The fissure is 
very irregular, so as not to be describable in words, 
and scarcely to be painted, — jutting buttresses, moss- 
grown, impending crags, with tall trees growing on 
their verge, nodding over the head of the observer at 
the bottom of the chasm, and rooted, as it were, in air. 
The part where the water works its way down is very 
narrow; but the chasm widens, after the descent, so as 
to form a spacious chamber between the crags, open to 
the sky, and its floor is strewn with fallen fragments 
of marble, and trees that have been precipitated long; 
ago, and are heaped with drift-wood, left there by the 
freshets, when the scanty stream becomes a consider- 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 147 

able waterfall. One crag, with a narrow ridge, which 
might be climbed without much difficulty, protrudes 
from the middle of the rock, and divides the fall. 
The passage through the cave made by the stream is 
very crooked, and interrupted, not only by fallen 
wrecks, but by deep pools of water, which probably 
have been forded by few. As the deepest pool occurs 
in the most uneven part of the chasm, where the hol- 
lows in the sides of the crag are deepest, so that each 
hollow is almost a cave by itself, I determined to 
wade through it. There was an accumulation of soft 
stuff on the bottom, so that the water did not look 
more than knee-deep ; but, finding that my feet sunk 
in it, I took off my trousers, and waded through up to 
my middle. Thus I reached the most interesting part 
of the cave, where the whirlings of the stream had 
left the marks of its eddies in the solid marble, all up 
and down the two sides of the chasm. The water is 
now dammed for the construction of two marble saw- 
mills, else it would have been impossible to effect the 
passage ; and I presume that, for years after the cave 
was discovered, the waters roared and tore their way 
in a torrent through this part of the chasm. While I 
was there, I heard voices, and x a small stone tumbled 
down; and looking up towards the narrow strip of 
bright light, and the sunny verdure that peeped over 
the top, — looking up thither from the deep, gloomy 
depth, — I saw two or three men ; and, not liking to 
be to them the most curious part of the spectacle, I 
waded back, and put on my clothes. The marble crags 
are overspread with a concretion, which makes them 
look as gray as granite, except where the continual 
flow of water keeps them of a snowy whiteness. If 
they were so white all over, it would be a splendid 



148 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

show. There is a marble-quarry close in the rear, 
above the cave, and in process of time the whole of 
the crags will be quarried into tombstones, doorsteps, 
fronts of edifices, fireplaces, etc. That will be a pity. 
On such portions of the walls as are within reach, 
visitors have sculptured their initials, or names at full 
length ; and the white letters showing plainly on the 
gray surface, they have more obvious effect than such 
inscriptions generally have. There was formerly, I 
believe, a complete arch of marble, forming a natural 
bridge over the top of the cave ; but this is no longer 
so. At the bottom of the broad chamber of the cave, 
standing in its shadow, the effect of the morning sun- 
shine on the dark or bright foliage of the pines and 
other trees that cluster on the summits of the crags 
was particularly beautiful ; and it was strange how 
such great trees had rooted themselves in solid mar- 
ble, for so it seemed. 

After passing through this romantic and most pictur- 
esque spot, the stream goes onward to turn factories. 
Here its voice resounds within the hollow crags ; there 
it goes onward, talking to itself, with babbling din, 
of its own wild thoughts and fantasies, — the voice 
of solitude and the wilderness, — loud and continual, 
but which yet does not seem to disturb the thought- 
ful wanderer, so that he forgets there is a noise. It 
talks along its storm-strewn path; it talks beneath tall 
precipices and high banks, — a voice that has been 
the same for innumerable ages ; and yet, if you listen, 
you will perceive a continual change and variety in its 
babble, and sometimes it seems to swell louder upon 
the ear than at others, — in the same spot, I mean. 
By and by man makes a dam for it, and it pours over 
it, still making its voice heard, while it ' labors. At 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 149 

one shop for manufacturing the marble, I saw the 
disk of a sundial as large as the top of a hogshead, 
intended for Williams College ; also a small obelisk, 
and numerous gravestones. The marble is coarse- 
grained, but of a very brilliant whiteness. It is rather 
a pity that the cave is not formed of some worthless 
stone. 

In the deep valleys of the neighborhood, where the 
shadows at sunset are thrown from mountain to moun- 
tain, the clouds have a beautiful effect, flitting high 
over them, bright with heavenly gold. It seems as if 
the soul might rise up from the gloom, and alight 
upon them and soar away. Walking along one of the 
valleys the other evening, while a pretty fresh breeze 
blew across it, the clouds that were skimming over my 
head seemed to conform themselves to the valley's 
shape. 

At a distance, mountain summits look close together, 
almost as if forming one mountain, though in reality 
a village lies in the depths between them. 

A steam-engine in a factory to be supposed to pos- 
sess a malignant spirit. It catches one man's arm, 
and pulls it off; seizes another by the coat-tails, and 
almost grapples him bodily; catches a girl by the 
hair, and scalps her ; and finally draws in a man and 
crushes him to death. 

The one-armed soap-maker, Lawyer H — — , wears 
an iron hook, which serves him instead of a hand 
for the purpose of holding on. They nickname him 
64 Black Hawk." 

North Adams still. — The village, viewed from the 
top of a hill to the westward at sunset, has a pecul- 
iarly happy and peaceful look. It lies on a level, sur- 
rounded by hills, and seems as if it lay in the hollow 



150 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

of a large hand. The Union Village may be seen, a 
manufacturing place, extending up a gorge of the hills. 
It is amusing to see all the distributed property of the 
aristocracy and commonalty, the various and conflict- 
ing interests of the town, the loves and hates, com- 
pressed into a space which the eye takes in as com- 
pletely as the arrangement of a tea-table. The rush 
©f the streams comes up the hill somewhat like the 
sound of a city. 

The hills about the village appear very high and 
steep sometimes, when the shadows of the clouds are 
thrown blackly upon them, while there is sunshine 
elsewhere ; so that, seen in front, the effect of their 
gradual slope is lost. These hills, surrounding the 
town on all sides, give it a snug and insulated air; 
and, viewed from certain points, it would be difficult 
to tell how to get out, without climbing the mountain 
ridges ; but the roads wind away and accomplish the 
passage without ascending very high. Sometimes the 
notes of a horn or bugle may be heard sounding afar 
among these passes of the mountains, announcing the 
coming of the stage-coach from Bennington or Troy 
or Greenfield or Pittsfield. 

There are multitudes of sheep among the hills, and 
they appear very tame and gentle ; though sometimes, 
like the wicked, they " flee when no man pursueth." 
But, climbing a rude, rough, locky, stumpy, ferny 
height yesterday, one or two of them stood and stared 
at me with great earnestness. I passed on quietly, 
but soon heard an immense baa-ing up the hill, and 
all the sheep came galloping and scrambling after me, 
baa-ing with all their might in innumerable voices, 
running in a compact body, expressing the utmost ea« 
gerness, as if they sought the greatest imaginable fa* 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 151 

vor from me ; and so they accompanied me down the 
hill-side, — a most ridiculous cortSge. Doubtless they 
had taken it into their heads that 1 brought them salt. 

The aspect of the village is peculiarly beautiful to- 
wards sunset, when there are masses of cloud about 
the sky, — the remnants of a thunder-storm. These 
clouds throw a shade upon large portions of the ram= 
part of hills, and the hills towards the west are shaded 
of course ; the clouds also make the shades deeper in 
the village, and thus the sunshine on the houses and 
trees, and along the street, is a bright, rich gold. 
The green is deeper in consequence of the recent rain. 

The doctors walk about the village with their sad- 
dle-bags on their arms, one always with a pipe in his 
mouth. 

A little dog, named Snapper, the same who stands 
on his hind legs, appears to be a roguish little dog, 
and the other day he stole one of the servant-girl's 
shoes, and ran into the street with it. Being pursued, 
he would lift the shoe in his mouth (while it almost 
dragged on the ground), and run a little way, then lie 
down with his paws on it and wait to be pursued 



August lltli. — This morning, it being cloudy and 
boding of rain, the clouds had settled upon the moun- 
tains, both on the summits and ridges, all round the 
town, so that there seemed to be no way of gaining 
access to the rest of the world, unless by climbing 
above the clouds. By and by they partially dispersed, 
giving glimpses of the mountain ramparts through 
their obscurity, the separate clouds lying heavily upon 
the mountain's breast. In warm mornings, after rain, 
the mist breaks forth from the forests on the ascent of 



152 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

the mountains, like smoke, — the smoke of a volcano; 
then it soars up, and becomes a cloud in heaven. But 
these clouds to-day were real rain-clouds. Sometimes, 
it is said, while laboring up the mountain-side, they 
suddenly burst, and pour down their moisture in a cat- 
aract, sweeping all before it. 

Every new aspect of the mountains, or view from a 
different position, creates a surprise in the mind. 

Scenes and characters : — A young country fellow, 
twenty or thereabouts, decently dressed, pained with 
the toothache. A doctor, passing on horseback, with 
his black leather saddle-bags behind him, a thin, frosty- 
haired man. Being asked to operate, he looks at the 
tooth, lances the gum, and the fellow being content to 
be dealt with on the spot, he seats himself in a chair 
on the stoop with great heroism. The doctor pro- 
duces a rusty pair of iron forceps ; a man holds the 
patient's head; the doctor perceives that, it being a 
difficult tooth to get at, wedged between the two larg- 
est in his jaws, he must pull very hard ; and the in- 
strument is introduced. A turn of the doctor's hand ; 
the patient begins to utter a cry, but the tooth comes 
out first, with four prongs. The patient gets up, half 
amazed, pays the doctor ninepence, pockets the tooth, 
and the spectators are in glee and admiration. 

There was a fat woman, a stage-passenger to-day, — 
a wonder how she could possibly get through the door, 
which seemed not so wide as she. When she put her 
foot on the step, the stage gave a great lurch, she jok- 
ing all the while. A great, coarse, red -faced dame. 
Other passengers,- — three or four slender Williams- 
town students, a young girl, and a man with one leg 
and two crutches. 

One of the most sensible men in this village is a 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 153 

plain, tall, elderly person, who is overseeing the mend- 
ing of a road, — humorous, intelligent, with much 
thought about matters and things ; and while at work 
he has a sort of dignity in handling the hoe or crow- 
bar, which shows him to be the chief. In the evening 
he sits under the stoop, silent and observant from un- 
der the brim of his hat ; but, occasion calling, he holds 
an argument about the benefit or otherwise of manu- 
factories or other things. A simplicity characterizes 
him more than appertains to most Yankees. 

A man in a pea-green frock-coat, with velvet collar* 
Another in a flowered chintz frock-coat. There is a 
great diversity of hues in garments. A doctor, a 
stout, tall, round-paunched, red-faced, brutal-looking 
old fellow, who gets drunk daily. He sat down on the 
step of our stoop, looking surly, and speaking to no- 
body; then got up and walked homeward, with a 
morose swagger and a slight unevenness of gait, at- 
tended by a fine Newfoundland dog. 

A barouche with driver returned from beyond 
Greenfield or Troy empty, the passengers being left 
at the former place. The driver stops here for the 
night, and, while washing, enters into talk with an old 
man about the different roads over the mountain. 

People washing themselves at a common basin in 
the bar-room ! and using the common hair-brushes ! 
perhaps with a consciousness of praiseworthy neat- 
ness! 

A man with a cradle on his shoulder, having been 
cradling oats. I attended a child's funeral yesterday 
afternoon. There was an assemblage of people in 
a plain, homely apartment. Most of the men were 
dressed in their ordinary clothes, and one or two were 
in shirt-sleeves. The coffin was placed in the midst 



154 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

of us % covered with a velvet pall. A bepaid clergy- 
man prayed (the audience remaining seated, while he 
stood up at the head of the coffin), read a passage of 
Scripture and commented upon it. While he read 
and prayed and expounded there was a heavy thunder- 
storm rumbling among the surrounding hills, and the 
lightning flashed fiercely through the gloomy room; 
and the preacher alluded to God's voice of thunder. 

It is the custom in this part of the country — and 
perhaps extensively in the interior of New England — ■ 
to bury the dead first in a charnel-house, or common 
tomb, where they remain till decay has so far pro- 
gressed as to secure them from the resurrectionists. 
They are then reburied, with certain ceremonies, in 
their own peculiar graves. 

O. E. S , a widower of forty or upwards, with 

a son of twelve and a pair of infant twins. He is a 
sharp, shrewd Yankee, with a Yankee's license of hon- 
esty. He drinks sometimes more than enough, and is 
guilty of peccadilloes with the fair sex; yet speaks 
most affectionately of his wife, and is a fond and care- 
ful father. He is a tall, thin, hard-featured man, with 
a sly expression of almost hidden grave humor, as if 
there were some deviltry pretty constantly in his mind, 
— which is probably the case. His brother tells me 
that he was driven almost crazy by the loss of his wife. 
It appears to me that men are more affected by the 
deaths of their wives than wives by the deaths of their 

husbands. Orrin S smokes a pipe, as do many 

of the guests. 

A walk this forenoon up the mountain ridge that 
walls in the town towards the east. The road is cut 
zigzag, the mountain being generally as steep as the 
Toof of a house; yet the stage to Greenfield passes 



1838.J AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 155 

over this road two or three times a weeko Graylock 
rose up behind me, appearing, with its two summits 
and a long ridge between, like a huge monster crouch- 
ing down slumbering, with its head slightly elevated, 
Graylock is properly the name for the highest eleva- 
tion. It appeared to better advantage the higher the 
point from which I viewed it. There were houses 
scattered here and there up the mountain-side, grow- 
ing poorer as I ascended ; the last that I passed was 
a mean log-hut, rough, rude, and dilapidated, with the 
smoke issuing from a chimney of small stones, plas- 
tered with clay; around it a garden of beans, with 
some attempt at flowers, and a green creeper running 
over the side of the cottage. Above this point there 
were various excellent views of mountain scenery, far 
off and near, and one village lying below in the hol- 
low vale. 

Having climbed so far that the road seemed now 
to go downward, I retraced my steps. There was a 
wagon descending behind me ; and as it followed the 
zigzag of the road I could hear the voices of the men 
high over my head, and sometimes I caught a glimpse 
of the wagon almost perpendicularly above me, while 
I was looking almost perpendicularly down to the log- 
hut aforementioned. Trees were thick on either hand, 
— oaks, pines, and others; and marble occasionally 
peeped up in the road ; and there was a lime-kiln by 
the wayside, ready for burning. 

Graylock had a cloud on his head this morning, the 
base of a heavy white cloud. The distribution of the 
sunshine amid mountain scenery is very striking ; one 
does not see exactly why one spot should be in deep 
obscurity while others are all bright. The clouds 
throw their shadows upon the hill-sides as they move 
slowly along, — a transitory blackness. 



156 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

I passed a doctor high up the road in a sulky ? with 
his black leather saddle-bags. 

Hudson's Cave is formed by Hudson's Brook. There 
is a natural arch of marble still in one part of it. The 
cliffs are partly made verdant with green moss, chiefly 
gray with oxidation ; on some parts the white of the 
marble is seen ; in interstices grow brake and other 
shrubs, so that there is naked sublimity seen through 
a good deal of clustering beauty. Above, the birch, 
poplars, and pines grow on the utmost verge of the 
cliffs, which jut far over, so that they are suspended 
in air; and whenever the sunshine finds its way into 
the depths of the chasm, the branches wave across 
it. There is a lightness, however, about their foli- 
age, which greatly relieves what would otherwise be 
a gloomy scene. After the passage of the stream 
through the cliffs of marble, the cliffs separate on 
either side, and leave it to flow onward ; intercepting 
its passage, however, by fragments of marble, some 
of them huge ones, which the cliffs have flung down, 
thundering into the bed of the stream through num- 
berless ages. Doubtless some of these immense frag- 
ments had trees growing on them, which have now 
mouldered away. Decaying trunks are heaped in va- 
rious parts of the gorge. The pieces of marble that 
are washed by the water are of a snow-white, and par- 
tially covered with a bright green water-moss, making 
a beautiful contrast. 

Among the cliffs, strips of earth-beach extend down- 
ward, and trees and large shrubs root themselves in 
that earth, thus further contrasting the nakedness of 
the stone with their green foliage. But the immedi- 
ate part where the stream forces its winding passage 
through the rock is stern, dark, and mysterious. 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 157 

Along the road, where it runs beneath a steep, there 
are high ridges, covered with trees, — the dew of mid- 
night damping the earth, far towards midnoon. I ob- 
served the shadows of water-insects, as they swam in 
the pools of a stream. Looking down a streamlet, I 
saw a trunk of a tree, which has been overthrown by 
the wind, so as to form a bridge, yet sticking up all 
its branches, as if it were unwilling to assist anybody 
over. 

Green leaves, following the eddies of the rivulet, 
Were now borne deep under water, and now emerged. 
Great uprooted trees, adhering midway down a preci- 
pice of earth, hung with their tops downward. 

There is an old man, selling the meats of butternuts 
under the stoop of the hotel. He makes that his sta- 
tion during a part of the season. He was dressed in 
a dark thin coat, ribbed velvet pantaloons, and a sort 
of moccasons, or shoes, appended to the legs of woollen 
stockings. He had on a straw hat, and his hair was 
gray, with a long, thin visage. His nuts were con- 
tained in a square tin box, having two compartments, 
one for the nuts, and another for maple sugar, which 
he sells in small cakes. He had three small tin meas- 
ures for nuts, — one at one cent, others at two, four, 
and six cents ; and as fast as they were emptied, he 
filled them again, and put them on the top of his box. 
He smoked a pipe, and talked with one man about 
whether it would be worth while to grow young again, 
and the duty of being contented with old age ; about 
predestination and freewill and other metaphysics. I 
asked him what his sales amounted to in the course of 
a day. He said that butternuts did not sell so well as 
walnuts, which are not yet in season ; that he might 
to-day have sold fifty cents' worth \ of walnuts, never 



158 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

less than a dollar's worth, often more ; and when he 
went round with a caravan, he had sold fifteen dollars' 
worth per day, and once as much as twenty dollars' 
worth. This promises to be an excellent year for wal- 
nuts. Chestnuts have been scarce for two or three 
years. He had one hundred chestnut-trees on his own 
land, and last year he offered a man twenty-five cents 
if he would find him a quart of good chestnuts on 
them. A bushel of walnuts would cost about ten dol- 
lars. He wears a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles. 

A drunken fellow sat down by him, and bought a 
cent's worth of his butternuts, and inquired what he 
would sell out to him for. The old man made an es- 
timate, though evidently in jest, and then reckoned 
his box, measures, meats, and what little maple sugar 
he had, at four dollars. He had a very quiet manner, 
and expressed an intention of going to the Commence- 
ment at Williamstown to-morrow. His name, I be- 
lieve, is Captain Gavett. 

Wednesday, August 15th. — I went to Commence- 
ment at Williams College, — five miles distant. At the 
tavern were students with ribbons, pink or blue, flut- 
tering from their buttonholes, these being the badges 
of rival societies. There was a considerable gathering 
of people, chiefly arriving in wagons or buggies, some 
in barouches, and very few in chaises. The most char- 
acteristic part of the scene was where the pedlars, gin- 
gerbread - sellers, etc., were collected, a few hundred 
yards from the meeting-house. There was a pedlar 
there from New York State, who sold his wares by 
auction, and I could have stood and listened to him all 
day long. Sometimes he would put up a heterogeny * 

1 This is a word made by Mr. Hawthorne, but one that was 
needed. — S. H. 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 159 

of articles in a lot, — as a paper of pins, a lead-pencil, 
and a shaving-box, — and knock them all down, per- 
haps for ninepence. Bunches of lead - pencils, steel- 
pens, pound-cakes of shaving -soap, gilt finger-rings 9 
bracelets, clasps, and other jewelry, cards of pearl but- 
tons, or steel (" there is some steel about them, gentle- 
men, for my brother stole 'em, and I bore him out in 
it"), bundles of wooden combs, boxes of matches, sus- 
penders, and, in short, everything, — dipping his hand 
down into his wares, with the promise of a wonderful 
lot, and producing, perhaps, a bottle of opodeldoc, and 
joining it with a lead -pencil, — and when he had sold 
several things of the same kind, pretending huge sur- 
prise at finding " just one more," if the lads lingered ; 
saying, " I could not afford to steal them for the price ; 
for the remorse of conscience would be worth more," 
— all the time keeping an eye upon those who bought, 
calling for the pay, making change with silver or bills, 
and deciding on the goodness of banks ; and saying 
to the boys, who climbed upon his cart, " Fall down, 
roll down, tumble down, only get down " ; and utter- 
ing everything in the queer, humorous recitative in 
which he sold his articles. Sometimes he would pre- 
tend that a person had bid, either by word or wink 
and raised a laugh thus ; never losing his self-posses- 
sion, nor getting out of humor. When a man asked 
whether a bill were good : " No ! do you suppose I' d 
give you good money? " When he delivered an arti- 
cle, he exclaimed, " You' re the lucky man," setting off 
his wares with the most extravagant eulogies. The 
people bought very freely, and seemed also to enjoy 
the fun. One little boy bought a shaving - box, per- 
haps meaning to speculate upon it. This character 
could not possibly be overdrawn ; and he was really 



160 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

excellent, with his allusions to what was passing, in- 
termingled, doubtless, with a good deal that was stud- 
ied. He was a man between thirty and forty, with a 
face expressive of other ability, as well as of humor. 

A good many people were the better or the worse 
for liquor. There was one fellow, — named Randall, 
I think, — a round-shouldered, bulky, ill-hung devil, 
with a pale, sallow skin, black beard, and a sort of 
grin upon his face, — a species of laugh, yet not so 
much mirthful as indicating a strange mental and 
moral twist. He was very riotous in the crowd, el- 
bowing, thrusting, seizing hold of people ; and at last 
a ring was formed, and a regular wrestling - match 
commenced between him and a farmer-looking man. 
Randall brandished his legs about in the most ridicu- 
lous style, but proved himself a good wrestler, and 
finally threw his antagonist. He got up with the 
same grin upon his features, — not a grin of simplic- 
ity, but intimating knowingness. When more depth 
or force of expression was required, he could put on 
the most strangely ludicrous and ugly aspect (suiting 
his gesture and attitude to it) that, can be imagined. 
I should like to see this fellow when he was perfectly 
sober. 

There were a good many blacks among the crowd. 
I suppose they used to emigrate across the border, 
while New York was a slave State . There were 
enough of them to form a party, though greatly in the 
minority ; and, a squabble arising, some of the blacks 
were knocked down, and otherwise maltreated. I saw 
one old negro, a genuine specimen of the slave negro, 
without any of the foppery of the race in our part of 
the State, — an old fellow, with a bag, I suppose, of 
broken victuals, on his shoulder, and his pockets 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 161 

stuffed out at his nips with the like provender ; full 
of grimaces and ridiculous antics, laughing laughably, 
yet without affectation; then talking with a strange 
kind of pathos about the whippings he used to get 
while he was a slave ; — a singular creature, of mere 
feeling, with some glimmering of sense. Then there 
was another gray old negro, but of a different stamp, 
politic, sage, cautious, yet with boldness enough, talk- 
ing about the rights of his race, yet so as not to pro- 
voke his audience; discoursing of the advantage of 
living under laws, and the wonders that might ensue, 
in that very assemblage, if there were no laws ; in the 
midst of this deep wisdom, turning off the anger of a 
half -drunken fellow by a merry retort, a leap in the 
air, and a negro's laugh. I was interested — there 
being a drunken negro ascending the meeting-house 
steps, and near him three or four well-dressed and 
decent negro wenches — to see the look of scorn and 
shame and sorrow and painful sympathy which one of 
them assumed at this disgrace of her color. 

The people here show out their character much 
more strongly than they do with us ; there was not 
the quiet, silent, dull decency of our public assem- 
blages, but mirth, anger, eccentricity, — all manifest- 
ing themselves freely. There were many watermelons 
for sale, and people burying their muzzles deep in the 
juicy flesh of them. There were cider and beer. 
Many of the people had their mouths half opened in 
a grin, which, more than anything else, I think, in- 
dicates a low stage of refinement. A low-crowned hat 
— very low — is common. They are respectful to 
gentlemen. 

A bat being startled, probably, out of the meeting- 
house, by the commotion around, flew blindly about in 

VOL. IX. 11 



162 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

the sunshine, and alighted on a man's sleeve. I looked 
at him, — a droll, winged, beast - insect, creeping up 
the man's arm, not over-clean, and scattering dust on 
the man's coat from his vampire wings. The man 
stared at him, and let the spectators stare for a min- 
ute, and then shook him gently off ; and the poor 
devil took a flight across the green to the meeting- 
house, and then, I believe, alighted on somebody else. 
Probably he was put to death. Bats are very numer. 
ous in these parts. 

There was a drunken man, annoying people with 
his senseless talk and impertinences, impelled to per- 
form eccentricities by an evil spirit in him ; and a 
pale little boy, with a bandaged leg, whom his father 
brought out of the tavern and put into a barouche. 
Then the boy needfully placed shawls and cushions 
about his leg to support it, his face expressive of pain 
and care, — not transitory, but settled pain, of long 
and forcedly patient endurance ; and this painful look, 
perhaps, gave his face more intelligence than it might 
otherwise have had, though it was naturally a sensi- 
tive face. Well-dressed ladies were in the meeting- 
house in silks and cambrics, — the sunburnt necks in 
contiguity with the delicate fabrics of the dresses show- 
ing the yeoman's daughters. 

Country graduates, — rough, brown-featured, school- 
master-looking, half -bumpkin, half-scholarly figures, in 
black ill-cut broadcloth, — their manners quite spoilt 
by what little of the gentleman there was in them. 

The landlord of the tavern keeping his eye on a 
man whom he suspected of an intention to bolt. 1 

The next day after Commencement was bleak and 

1 A word meaning in Worcester, I find, " to spring out with speed 
and suddenness." — S. H. 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 163 

rainy from midnight till midnight, and a good many 
guests were added to our table in consequence. Among 
them were some of the Williamstown students, gentle- 
manly young fellows, with a brotherly feeling for each 
other, a freedom about money concerns, a half-boyish 9 
half -manly character ; and my heart warmed to them 
They took their departure — two for South Adams 
and two across the Green Mountains — in the midst 
of the rain. There was one of the graduates with his 
betrothed, and his brother-in-law and wife, who stayed 
during the day, — the graduate the very model of a 
country schoolmaster in his Sunday clothes, being his 
Commencement suit of black broadcloth and pumps. 
He is engaged as assistant teacher of the academy at 
Shelburne Falls. There was also the high sheriff of 
Berkshire, Mr. Twining, with a bundle of writs under 
his arm, and some of them peeping out of his pockets. 
Also several Trojan men and women, who had been to 
Commencement. Likewise a young clergyman, grad- 
uate of Brown College, and student of the Divinity 
School at Cambridge. He had come across the 
Hoosic, or Green Mountains, about eighteen miles, on 
foot, from Charlemont, where he is preaching, and 
had been to Commencement. Knowing little of men 
and matters, and desiring to know more, he was very 
free in making acquaintance with people, but could 
not do it handsomely. A singular smile broke out 
upon his face on slight provocation. He was awk- 
ward in his manners, yet it was not an ungentlemanly 
awkwardness, — intelligent as respects book-learning, 
but much deficient in worldly tact. It was pleasant 
to observe his consciousness of this deficiency, and 
how he strove to remedy it by mixing as much as 
possible with people, and sitting almost all day in the 



164 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

bar-room to study character. Sometimes he would 
endeavor to contribute his share to the general amuse- 
ment, — as by growling comically, to provoke and 
mystify a dog ; and by some bashful and half-apropos 
observations. 

In the afternoon there came a fresh bevy of stu- 
dents onward from Williamstown ; but they made only 
a transient visit, though it was still raining. These 
were a rough -hewn, heavy set of fellows, from the 
hills and woods in this neighborhood, — great unpol- 
ished bumpkins, who had grown up farmer-boys, and 
had little of the literary man, save green spectacles 
and black broadcloth (which all of them had not), 
talking with a broad accent, and laughing clown-like, 
while sheepishness overspread all, together with a van- 
ity at being students. One of the party was* six feet 
seven inches high, and all his herculean dimensions 
were in proportion ; his features, too, were cast in a 
mould suitable to his stature. This giant was not 
ill -looking, but of a rather intelligent aspect. His 
motions were devoid of grace, but jet had a rough 
freedom, appropriate enough to such a figure. These 
fellows stayed awhile, talked uncouthly about college 
matters, and started in the great open wagon which 
had brought them and their luggage hither. We had 
a fire in the bar-room almost all day, — a great, blaz- 
ing fire, — and it was pleasant to have this day of 
bleak November weather, and cheerful fireside talk, 
and wet garments smoking in the fireside heat, still in 
the summer-time. Thus the day wore on with a sort of 
heavy, lazy pleasantness ; and night set in, still stormy. 

In the morning it was cloudy, but did not rain, and 
I went with the little clergyman to Hudson's Cave. 
The stream which they call North Branch, and into 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 165 

which Hudson's Brook empties, was much swollen, and 
tumbled and dashed and whitened over the rocks, and 
formed real cascades over the dams, and rushed fast 
along the side of the cliffs, which had their feet in it. 
Its color was deep brown, owing to the washing of the 
banks which the rain had poured into it. Looking 
back, we could see a cloud on Gray lock ; but on other 
parts of Saddle Mountain there were spots of sunshine, 
some of most glorious brightness, contrasting with the 
general gloom of the sky, and the deep shadow which 
lay on the earth. 

We looked at the spot where the stream makes its 
entrance into the marble cliff, and it was (this morn- 
ing, at least) the most striking view of the cave. The 
water dashed down in a misty cascade, through what 
looked like the portal of some infernal subterranean 
structure ; and far within the portal we could see the 
mist and the falling water ; and it looked as if, but 
for these obstructions of view, we might have had a 
deeper insight into a gloomy region. 

After our return, the little minister set off for his 
eighteen miles' journey across the mountains ; and I 
was occupied the rest of the forenoon with an affair of 
stealing, — a woman of forty or upwards being accused 
of stealing a needle-case and other trifles from a fac- 
tory-girl at a boarding-house. She came here to take 
passage in a stage ; but Putnam, a justice of the 
peace, examined her and afterwards ordered her to be 
searched by Laura and Eliza, the chambermaid and 
table-waiter. Hereupon was much fun and some sym- 
pathy. They searched, and found nothing that they 
sought, though she gave up a pair of pantalets, which 
she pretended to have taken by mistake. Afterwards, 
she being in the parlor, I went in ; and she immedi 



166 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

ately began to talk to me, giving me an account of the 
affair, speaking with the bitterness of a wronged per- 
son, with a sparkling eye, yet with great fluency and 
self-possession. She is a yellow, thin, and battered old 
thing, yet rather country-lady-like in aspect and man- 
ners. I heard Eliza telling another girl about it, un- 
der my window ; and she seemed to think that the 
poor woman's reluctance to be searched arose from 
the poorness of her wardrobe and of the contents of 
her bandbox. 

At parting, Eliza said to the girl, " What do you 
think I heard somebody say about you ? That it was 
enough to make anybody's eyes start square out of 
their head to look at such red cheeks as yours." 
Whereupon the girl turned off the compliment with 
a laugh, and took her leave. 

There is an old blind dog, recognizing his friends 
by the sense of smell. I observed the eager awkward- 
ness with which he accomplishes the recognition, his 
carefulness in descending steps, and generally in his 
locomotion. He evidently has not forgotten that he 
once had the faculty of sight ; for he turns his eyes 
with earnestness towards those who attract his atten- 
tion, though the orbs are plainly sightless. 

Here is an Englishman, — a thorough-going Tory and 
Monarchist, — upholding everything English, govern- 
ment, people, habits, education, manufactures, modes 
of living, and expressing his dislike of all American- 
isms, - — and this in a quiet, calm, reasonable way, as 
if it were quite proper to live in <a country and draw 
his subsistence from it, and openly abuse it. He im- 
ports his clothes from England, and expatiates on the 
superiority of English boots, hats, cravats, etc. He 
is a man of unmalleable habits, and wears his dress oi 
the same fashion as that of twenty years ago. 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 167 

August 18th. — There has come one of the propri- 
etors, or superintendents of a caravan of animals, — - a 
large, portly - paunched, dark - complexioned, brandy- 
burnt, heavy-faced man of about fifty ; with a diminu- 
tive nose in proportion to the size of his face, — thick 
lips ; nevertheless he has the air of a man who has 
seen much, and derived such experience as was for his 
purpose. Also it is the air of a man not in a subor- 
dinate station, though vulgar and coarse. He arrived 
in a wagon, with a span of handsome gray horses, and 
ordered dinner. He had left his caravan at Worces- 
ter, and came from thence and over the mountain 
hither, to settle stopping-places for the caravan. The 
nearest place to this, I believe, was Charlemont ; the 
penultimate at Greenfield. In stopping at such a vil- 
lage as this, they do not expect much profit, if any ; 
but would be content with enough to pay their travel- 
ling expenses, while they look to gather gain at larger 
places. In this village, it seems, the selectmen had 
resolved not to license any public exhibition of the 
kind ; and it was interesting to attend to the consul- 
tations whether it were feasible to overcome the ob- 
jections, and what might be the best means. Orrin 
S and the chance passers-by took part in the dis- 
cussion. The scruple is that the factory-girls, having 
ready money by them, spend it for these nonsenses, 
quitting their work ; whereas, were it a mere farming- 
town, the caravan would take little in proportion to 
their spendings. The opinion generally was that the 
license could not be obtained ; and the portly man's 
face grew darker and downcast at the prospect ; and 
he took out a travelling-map and looked it carefully 
over, to discover some other station. This is some- 
thing like the planning of the march of an army. It 



168 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

was finally resolved to enlist the influence of a brother- 
in-law of the head selectman, and try to gain his con- 
sent. Whereupon the caravan-man and the brother- 
in-law (who, being a tavern-keeper, was to divide the 
custom of the caravan people with this house) went to 
make the attempt, — the caravan-man stalking along 
with stiff, awkward bulk and stature, yet preserving 
a respectability withal though with somewhat of the 
blackguard. Before he went, he offered a wager of 
" a drink of rum or a chaw of tobacco " that he did 
not succeed. When he came back there was a flush 
in his face and a sparkle in his eye that did not look 
like failure; but I know not what was the result. 
He took a glass of wine with the brother-in-law, — a 
grave, thin, frosty-haired, shrewd-looking yeoman, in 
his shirt-sleeves, — then ordered his horses, paid his 
bill, and drove off, accompanied still by the same yeo- 
man, perhaps to get the permission of the other two 
selectmen. If he does not get a license here, he will 
try at Cheshire. 

A fellow appears with a pink guard-chain and two 
breast-pins in his shirt, - — one a masonic one of gold, 
with compass and square, and the other of colored 
glass, set in filigree brass, — and the shirt a soiled 
one. 

A tendency to obesity is more common in this part 
of the country than I have noticed it elsewhere. 

August 19^A. — I drove with Orrin S last 

evening to an old farmer's house to get some chick- 
ens. Entering the kitchen, I observed a fireplace with 
rough stone jambs and back, and a marble hearth, 
cracked, and otherwise contrasting a roughness of 
workmanship with the value of the material. There 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 169 

was a clock without a case, the weights being visible, 
and the pendulum swinging in air, — and a coffee- 
mill fixed against the wall. A religious newspaper 
lay on the mantel-piece. The old farmer was reluc- 
tant to go after the fowls, declaring that it would be 
impossible to find them in the dark ; but Orrin insist- 
ing, he lighted a lamp, and we all went together, and 
quickly found them, roosted about the wood - pile ; 
whereupon Orrin speedily laid hands on five, and 
wrung their necks in a twinkling, they fluttering long 
after they should have been dead. When we had 
taken our departure, Orrin remarked, " How faint- 
hearted these old fellows are ! " and it was a good ob- 
servation ; for it was the farmer's timorous age that 
made him doubt the practicability of catching the 
chickens, and it contrasted well with the persevering 
energy of the middle-aged Orrin. But Orrin inquired, 
somewhat dolefully, whether I should suppose that he 
himself bewailed the advances of age. It is a grievous 
point with him. 

In the evening there was a strange fellow in the 
bar-room, — a sort of mock Methodist, — a cattle- 
drover, who had stopped here for the night with two 
cows and a Durham bull. All his talk turned upon 
religion, and he would ever and anon burst out in 
some strain of scriptural - styled eloquence, chanted 
through his nose, like an exhortation at a camp-meet- 
ing. A group of Universalists and no-religionists sat 
around him, making him their butt, and holding wild 
argument with him ; and he strangely mingled humor, 
with his enthusiasm, and enthusiasm with his humor 
so that it was almost impossible to tell whether he 
were in jest or earnest. Probably it was neither, but 
an eccentricity, an almost monomania, that has grown 



170 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

upon him, — perhaps the result of strong religious ex- 
citement. And, having been a backslider, he is cursed 
with a half-frenzied humor. In the morning he talked 
in the same strain at breakfast, while quaffing four- 
teen cups of tea, — Eliza, all the while, as she sup- 
plied him, entreating him not to drink any more. 
After breakfast (it being the Sabbath) he drove his 
two cows and bull past the stoop, raising his staff, and 
running after them with strange, uncouth gestures; 
and the last word I heard from him was an exhorta- 
tion : " Gentlemen, now all of you take your Bibles, 
and meditate on divine things," — this being uttered 
with raised hands, and a Methodistical tone, inter- 
mingled, as was his expression, with something humor- 
ous ; so that, to the last, the puzzle was still kept up, 
whether he was an enthusiast or a jester. He wore a 
suit of coarse brown cloth, cut in rather a Quaker fash- 
ion ; and he had a large nose, and his face expressed 
enthusiasm and humor, — a sort of smile and twinkle 
of the eye, with wildness. He is excellent at a bar- 
gain; and if, in the midst of his ghostly exhortation, 
the talk were turned on cattle, he eagerly seized the 
topic and expatiated on it. 

While this fellow was enumerating the Universal- 
ists in neighboring towns who had turned from their 
errors on their death-beds, some one exclaimed, " John 
Hodges ! why, he is n't dead, — he 's alive and well." 
Whereat there was a roar of laughter. While holding 
an argument at table, I heard him mutter to himself 
at something that his adversary said; and though I 
could not distinguish what it was, the tone did more 
to convince me of some degree of earnestness than 
aught beside. This character might be wrought into 
a strange portrait of something sad, terrific, and laugh- 
able. 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 171 

The Sabbath wore away lazily, and therefore wick- 
edly. The heavy caravan-man inquired for some book 
of light reading, and, having obtained an old volume 
of a literary paper, betook himself to the seat of his 
wagon, to read. At other times he smoked, and talked 
sensibly enough with anybody that offered. He is a 
man of sense, though not quick, and seems to be a fair 
man. 

When he walks, he puts the thumb of each hand 
into the armhole of his waistcoat, and moves along 
stiffly, with a knock-kneed gait. His talk was chiefly 
of hotels, and such matters as a man, always travel- 
ling, without any purpose of observation for mental 
improvement, would be interested in. He spoke of 
his life as a hard one. 

There was a Methodist quarterly meeting here, and 
a love-feast. 

There is a fellow hereabout who refuses to pay six 
dollars for the coffin in which his wife was buried. 
She died about six months since, and I believe he is 
already engaged to another. He is young and rather 
comely, but has not a straightforward look. 

One man plods along, looking always on the ground, 
without ever lifting his eyes to the mountain scenery, 
and forest, and clouds, above and around him. An- 
other walks the street with a quick, prying eye, and 
sharp face, — the most expressive possible of one on 
the look-out for gain, — of the most disagreeable class 
of Yankees. There is also a sour-looking, unwhole- 
some boy, the son of this man, whose voice is queru- 
lous and ill-natured, precisely suited to his aspect. So 
is his character. 

We have another with Indian blood in him, and the 
straight, black hair, — something of the tawny skin 



172 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

and the quick, shining eye of the Indian. He seems 
reserved, but is not ill-natured when spoken to. There 
is so much of the white in him, that he gives the im- 
pression of belonging to a civilized race, which causes 
the more strange sensation on discovering that he has 
a wild lineage. 

1 August 22d. — I walked out into what is called the 
Notch this forenoon, between Saddle Mountain and 
another. There are good farms in this Notch, although 
the ground is considerably elevated, — this morning, 
indeed, above the clouds ; for I penetrated through one 
in reaching the higher region, although I found sun- 
shine there. Graylock was hidden in clouds, and the 
rest of Saddle Mountain had one partially wreathed 
about it ; but it was withdrawn before long. It was 
very beautiful cloud-scenery. The clouds lay on the 
breast of the mountain, dense, white, well-defined, and 
some of them were in such close vicinity that it seemed 
as if I could infold myself in them ; while others, be- 
longing to the same fleet, were floating through the 
blue sky above. I had a view of Williamstown at the 
distance of a few miles, — two or three, perhaps, — a 
white village and steeple in a gradual hollow, with high 
mountainous swells heaving themselves up, like im- 
mense, subsiding waves, far and wide around it. On 
these high mountain-waves rested the white summer 
clouds, or they rested as still in the air above ; and 
they were formed into such fantastic shapes that they 
gave the strongest possible impression of being con- 
founded or intermixed with the sky. It was like a 
day-dream to look at it ; and the students ought to be 
day-dreamers, all of them, — when cloud-land is one 
and the same thing with the substantial earth. By 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 173 

degrees all these clouds flitted away, and the sultry 
summer sun burned on hill and valley. As I was 
walking home, an old man came down the mountain- 
path behind me in a wagon, and gave me a drive to 
the village. Visitors being few in the Notch, the wo- 
men and girls looked from the windows after me ; the 
men nodded and greeted me with a look of curiosity ; 
and two little girls whom I met, bearing tin pails, 
whispered one another and smiled. 

North Adams, August 23d. — The county commis- 
sioners held a court in the bar-room yesterday after- 
noon, for the purpose of letting out the making of the 
new road over the mountain. The commissioners sat 
together in attitudes of some dignity, with one leg laid 
across another; and the people, to the number of 
twenty or thirty, sat round about with their hats on, 
in their shirt-sleeves, with but little, yet with some, 
formality. Several had come from a distance to bid 
for the job. They sat with whips in their hands. The 
first bid was three dollars, — then there was a long 
silence, — then a bid of two dollars eighty-five cents, 
and finally it was knocked down at two eighteen, per 
rod. A disposition to bid was evidenced in one man 
by his joking on the bid of another. 

After supper, as the sun was setting, a man passed 
by the door with a hand-organ, connected with which 
was a row of figures, such as dancers, pirouetting and 
turning, a lady playing on a piano, soldiers, a negro 
wench dancing, and opening and shutting a huge red 
mouth, — all these keeping time to the lively or slow 
tunes of the organ. The man had a pleasant, but sly, 
dark face ; he carried his whole establishment on his 
shoulder, it being fastened to a staff which he rested 



174 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

on the ground when he performed. A little crowd of 
people gathered about him on the stoop, peeping over 
each other's heads with huge admiration, — fat Otis 
Hodge, and the tall stage-driver, and the little boys 
all declaring that it was the masterpiece of sights. 
Some few coppers did the man obtain, as well as much 
praise. He had come over the high, solitary moun- 
tain, where for miles there could hardly be a soul to 
hear his music. 

In the evening, a portly old commissioner, a cheer- 
ful man enough, was sitting reading the newspaper in 
the parlor, holding the candle between the newspaper 
and his eyes, — its rays glittering on his silver-bowed 
spectacles and silvery hair. A pensive mood of age 
had come upon him, and sometimes he heaved a long 
sigh, while he turned and re-turned the paper, and 
folded it for convenient reading. By and by a gentler 
man came to see him, and he talked with him cheer- 
fully. 

The fat old squire, whom I have mentioned more 
than once, is an odd figure, with his bluff, red f ace 5 — 
coarsely red, — set in silver hair, — his clumsy legs, 
which he moves in a strange straddle, using, I believe, 
a broomstick for a staff. The breadth of back of these 
fat men is truly a wonder. 

A decent man, at table the other day, took the only 
remaining potato out of the dish, on the end of his 
knife, and offered his friend half of it ! 

The mountains look much larger and more majestic 
sometimes than at others, — partly because the mind 
may be variously disposed, so as to comprehend them 
more or less, and partly that an imperceptible (or al- 
most so) haze adds a great deal to the effect. Saddle- 
back often looks a huge, black mass, — black-green, of 
black -blue. 



1838.'] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 175 

The cave makes a fresh impression upon me every 
time I visit it, — - so deep, so irregular, so gloomy, so 
stern, — part of its walls the pure white of the marble, 
— others covered with a gray decomposition and with 
spots of moss, and with brake growing where there is 
a handful of earth. I stand and look into its depths 
at various points, and hear the roar of the stream re- 
echoing up. It is like a heart that has been rent asun- 
der by a torrent of passion, which has raged and 
foamed, and left its ineffaceable traces ; though now 
there is but a little rill of feeling at the bottom. 

In parts, trees have fallen across the fissure, — trees 
with large trunks. 

I bathed in the stream in this old, secluded spot, 
which I frequent for that purpose. To reach it, I 
cross one branch of the stream on stones, and then 
pass to the other side of a little island, overgrown with 
trees and underbrush. Where I bathe, the stream has 
partially dammed itself up by sweeping together tree- 
trunks and slabs and branches, and a thousand things 
that have come down its current for years perhaps ; 
so that there is a deep pool, full of eddies and little 
whirlpools, which would carry me away, did I not take 
hold of the stem of a small tree that lies opportunely 
transversely across the water. The bottom is uneven, 
with rocks of various size, against which it is difficult 
to keep from stumbling, so rapid is the stream. Some- 
times it bears along branches and strips of bark, - — 
sometimes a green leaf, or perchance a dry one, — oc- 
casionally overwhelmed by the eddies and borne deep 
under water, then rushing atop the waves. 

The forest, bordering the stream, produces its effect 
by a complexity of causes, — the old and stern trees, 
with stately trunks and dark foliage, — as the almost 



176 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

black pines, — the young trees, with lightsome green 
foliage, — as sapling oaks, maples, and poplars, — then 
the old, decayed trunks, that are seen lying here and 
there, all mouldered, so that the foot would sink into 
them. The sunshine, falling capriciously on a casual 
branch considerably within the forest verge, while it 
leaves nearer trees in shadow, leads the imagination 
into the depths. But it soon becomes bewildered there. 
Rocks strewn about, half hidden in the fallen leaves, 
must not be overlooked. 

August 26th. — A funeral last evening, nearly at 
sunset, — a coffin of a boy about ten years old laid on 
a one-horse wagon among some straw, — two or three 
barouches and wagons following. As the funeral 
passed through the village street, a few men formed a 
short procession in front of the coffin, among whom 

were Orrin S and I. The burial-ground (there 

are two in the town) is on the sides and summit of a 
round hill, which is planted with cypress and other 
trees, among which the white marble gravestones show 
pleasantly. The grave was dug on the steep slope of 
a hill ; and the grave-digger was waiting there, and two 
or three other shirt-sleeved yeomen, leaning against the 
trees. 

Orrin S , a wanton and mirth-making middle- 
aged man, who would not seem to have much domestic 
feeling, took a chief part on the occasion, assisting in 
taking the coffin from the wagon and in lowering it 
into the grave. There being some superfluous earth 
at the bottom of the grave, the coffin was drawn up 
again after being once lowered, and the obstacle re- 
moved with a hoe ; then it was lowered again for the 
last time. While this was going on, the father and 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 177 

mother stood weeping at the upper end of the grave, 
at the head of the little procession, — the mother sob- 
bing with stifled violence, and peeping forth to dis- 
cover why the coffin was drawn up again. It being 

fitted in its place, Orrin S strewed some straw 

upon it, — this being the custom here, because " the 
clods on the coffin-lid have an ugly sound." Then the 
Baptist minister, having first whispered to the father, 
removed his hat, the spectators all doing the same, and 
thanked them " in the name of these mourners, for 
this last act of kindness to them." 

In all these rites Orrin S bore the chief part 

with real feeling and sadly decorous demeanor. After 
the funeral, I took a walk on the Williamstown road, 
towards the west. There had been a heavy shower in 
the afternoon, and clouds were brilliant all over the 
sky, around Graylock and everywhere else. Those 
over the hills of the west were the most splendid in 
purple and gold, and, there being a haze, it added im- 
mensely to their majesty and dusky magnificence. 

This morning I walked a little way along the moun- 
tain road, and stood awhile in the shadow of some oak 
and chestnut-trees, — it being a warm, bright, sunshiny 
morning. The shades lay long from trees and other 
objects, as at sunset, but how different this cheerful 
and light radiance from the mild repose of sunset! 
Locusts, crickets, and other insects were making mu- 
sic. Cattle were feeding briskly, with morning appe- 
tites. The wakeful voices of children were heard in a 
neighboring hollow. The dew damped the road, and 
formed many- colored drops in the grass. In short, 
the world was not weary with a long, sultry day, but 
in a fresh, recruited state, fit to carry it through such 
a day. 

TOL. IX. 12 



178 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838, 

A rough-looking, sunburnt, soiled-shirted, odd, mid- 
dle-aged little man came to the house a day or two 
ago, seeking work. He had come from Ohio, and was 
returning to his native place, somewhere in New Eng- 
land, stopping occasionally to earn money to pay his 
way c There was something rather ludicrous in his 
physiognomy and aspect. He was very free to talk 
with all and sundry. He made a long eulogy on his 
dog Tiger, yesterday, insisting on his good moral char- 
acter, his not being quarrelsome, his docility, and all 
other excellent qualities that a huge, strong, fierce 
mastiff could have. Tiger is the bully of the village, 
and keeps all the other dogs in awe. His aspect is 
very spirited, trotting massively along, with his tail 
elevated and his head likewise. "When he sees a dog 
that 's anything near his size, he 's apt to growl a lit- 
tle," — Tiger had the marks of a battle on him, — ■ 
"yet he 's a good dog." 

Friday, August 31st ■ — A drive on Tuesday to 
Shelburne Falls, twenty-two miles or thereabouts dis- 
tant. Started at about eight o'clock in a wagon with 
Mr. Leach and Mr. Birch. Our road lay over the 
Green Mountains, the long ridge of which made aw- 
ful by a dark, heavy, threatening cloud, apparently 
rolled and condensed along the whole summit. As 
we ascended the zigzag road, we looked behind, at 
every opening in the forest, and beheld a wide land- 
scape of mountain-swells and valleys intermixed, and 
old Graylock and the whole of Saddleback. Over the 
wide scene there was a general gloom ; but there was 
a continual vicissitude of bright sunshine flitting over 
it, now resting for a brief space on portions of the 
heights, now flooding the valleys with green bright- 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 179 

ness, now making out distinctly each dwelling, and 
the hotels, and then two small brick churches of the 
distant village, denoting its prosperity, while all around 
seemed under adverse fortunes. But we, who stood 
so elevated above mortal things, and saw so wide and 
far, could see the sunshine of prosperity departing 
from one spot and rolling towards another, so that we 
could not think it much matter which spot were sunny 
or gloomy at any one moment. 

The top of this Hoosic Mountain is a long ridge, 
marked on the county map as two thousand one hun- 
dred and sixty feet above the sea ; on this summit is 
a valley, not very deep, but one or two miles wide, in 
which is the town of L . Here there are respec- 
table farmers, though it is a rough, and must be a 
bleak place. The first house, after reaching the sum- 
mit, is a small, homely tavern. We left our horse in 
the shed, and, entering the little unpainted bar-room, 
we heard a voice, in a strange, outlandish accent, ex- 
claiming " Diorama." It was an old man, with a full, 
gray-bearded countenance, and Mr. Leach exclaimed, 
" Ah, here 's the old Dutchman again ! " And he an- 
swered, " Yes, Captain, here 's the old Dutchman," — 
though, by the way, he is a German, and travels the 
country with this diorama in a wagon, and had re- 
cently been at South Adams, and was now returning 
from Saratoga Springs. We looked through the glass 
orifice of his machine, while he exhibited a succession 
of the very worst scratches and daubings that can be 
imagined, — worn out, too, and full of cracks and 
wrinkles, dimmed with tobacco-smoke, and every other 
wise dilapidated. There were none in a later fashion 
than thirty years since, except some figures that had 
been cut from tailors' show-bills. There were views 



180 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

of cities and edifices in Europe, of Napoleon's battles 
and Nelson's sea-fights, in the midst of which would 
be seen a gigantic, brown, hairy hand (the Hand of 
Destiny) pointing at the principal points of the con- 
flict, while the old Dutchman explained. He gave a 
good deal of dramatic effect to his descriptions, but 
his accent and intonation cannot be written. He 
seemed to take interest and pride in his exhibition ; 
yet when the utter and ludicrous miserability thereof 
made us laugh, he joined in the joke very readily . 
When the last picture had been shown, he caused a 
country boor, who stood gaping beside the machine, to 
put his head within it, and thrust out his tongue. 
The head becoming gigantic, a singular effect was 
produced. 

The old Dutchman's exhibition being over, a great 
dog, apparently an elderly dog, suddenly made him- 
self the object of notice, evidently in rivalship of the 
Dutchman. He had seemed to be a good-natured, 
quiet kind of dog, offering his head to be patted by 
those who were kindly disposed towards him. This 
great, old dog, unexpectedly, and of his own motion, 
began to run round after his not very long tail with 
the utmost eagerness ; and, catching hold of it, he 
growled furiously at it, and still continued to circle 
round, growling and snarling with increasing rage, as 
if one half of his body were at deadly enmity with the 
other. Faster and faster went he, round and round- 
about, growing still fiercer, till at last he ceased in a 
state of utter exhaustion ; but no sooner had his exhi- 
bition finished than he became the same mild, quiet, 
sensible old dog as before ; and no one could have sus- 
pected him of such nonsense as getting enraged with 
his own tail. He was first taught this trick by attach- 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 181 

ing a bell to the end of his tail ; but he now com- 
mences entirely of his own accord, and I really believe 
he feels vain at the attention he excites. 

It was chill and bleak on the mountain-top, and a 
lire was burning in the bar-room. The old Dutchman 
bestowed on everybody the title of " Captain," per- 
haps because such a title has a great chance of suiting 
an American. 

Leaving the tavern, we drove a mile or two farther 
to the eastern brow of the mountain, whence we had a 
view, over the tops of a multitude of heights, into the 
intersecting valleys down which we were to plunge, — ■ 
and beyond them the blue and indistinctive scene ex- 
tended to the east and north for at least sixty miles. 
Beyond the hills it looked almost as if the blue ocean 
might be seen. Monadnock was visible, like a sap- 
phire cloud against the sky. Descending, we by and 
by got a view of the Deerfield River, which makes a 
bend in its course from about north and south to 
about east and west, coming out from one defile among 
the mountains, and flowing through another. The 
scenery on the eastern side of the Green Mountains 
is incomparably more striking than on the western, 
where the long swells and ridges have a flatness of ef- 
fect ; and even Graylock heaves itself so gradually 
that it does not much strike the beholder. But on the 
eastern part, peaks one or two thousand feet high rush 
up on either bank of the river in ranges, thrusting out 
their shoulders side by side. They are almost precip- 
itous, clothed in woods, through which the naked rock 
pushes itself forth to view. Sometimes the peak is 
bald, while the forest wraps the body of the hill, and 
the baldness gives it an indescribably stern effect. 
Sometimes the precipice rises with abruptness from 



182 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

the immediate side of the river ; sometimes there is a 
cultivated valley on either side, — cultivated long, and 
with all the smoothness and antique rurality of a farm 
near cities, — ■ this gentle picture strongly set oif by 
the wild mountain-frame around it. Often it would 
seem a wonder how our road was to continue, the 
mountains rose so abruptly on either side, and stood, 
so direct a wall, across our onward course ; while, 
looking behind, it would be an equal mystery how we 
had gotten thither, through the huge base of the 
mountain, that seemed to have reared itself erect after 
our passage. But, passing onward, a narrow defile 
would give us egress into a scene where new moun- 
tains would still appear to bar us. Our road was 
much of it level ; but scooped out among mountains. 
The river was a brawling stream, shallow and rough- 
ened by rocks ; now we drove on a plane with it ; now 
there was a sheer descent down from the roadside 
upon it, often unguarded by any kind of fence, except 
by the trees that contrived to grow on the headlong 
interval. Between the mountains there were gorges, 
that led the imagination away into new scenes of wild- 
ness. I have never driven through such romantic 
scenery, where there was such a variety and boldness 
of mountain shapes as this ; and though it was a broad 
sunny day, the mountains diversified the view with 
sunshine and shadow, and glory and gloom. 

In Charlemont (I think), after passing a bridge, 
we saw a very curious rock on the shore of the river, 
about twenty feet from the roadside. Clambering 
down the bank, we found it a complete arch, hollowed 
out of the solid rock, and as high as the arched en- 
trance of an ancient church, which it might be taken 
to be, though considerably dilapidated and weather- 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 183 

worn. The water flows through it, though the rock 
afforded standing room, beside the pillars. It was 
really like the archway of an enchanted palace, all of 
which has vanished except the entrance, — ■ now only 
into nothingness and empty space. We climbed to 
the top of the arch, in which the traces of water hav- 
ing eddied are very perceptible. This curiosity occurs 
in a wild part of the river's course, and in a solitude 
of mountains. 

Farther down, the river becoming deeper, broader, 
and more placid, little boats were seen moored along 
it, for the convenience of crossing. Sometimes, too, 
the well-beaten track of wheels and hoofs passed down 
to its verge, then vanished, and appeared on the other 
side, indicating a ford. We saw one house, pretty, 
small, with green blinds, and much quietness in its 
environments on the other side of the river, with a 
flat-bottomed boat for communication. It was a pleas- 
ant idea that the world was kept off by the river. 

Proceeding onward, we reached Shelburne Falls. 
Here the river, in the distance of a few hundred yards, 
makes a descent of about a hundred and fifty feet over 
a prodigious bed of rock. Formerly it doubtless flowed 
unbroken over the rock, merely creating a rapid ; and 
traces of water having raged over it are visible in por- 
tions of the rock that now lie high and dry. At pres- 
ent the river roars through a channel which it has 
worn in the stone, leaping in two or three distinct 
falls, and rushing downward, as from flight to flight 
of a broken and irregular staircase. The mist rises 
from the highest of these cataracts, and forms a pleas- 
ant object in the sunshine. The best view, I think, is 
to stand on the verge of the upper and largest fall, 
and look down through the whole rapid descent of the 



184 AMERICAN NOTE-BOORS. [1838. 

river, as it hurries, foaming, through its rock -worn 
path, — the rocks seeming to have been hewn away, 
as when mortals make a road. These falls are the 
largest in this State, and have a very peculiar charac- 
ter. It seems as if water had had more power at some 
former period than now, to hew and tear its passage 
through such an immense ledge of rock as here with- 
stood it. In this crag, or parts of it, now far beyond 
the reach of the water, it has worn what are called 
pot-holes, — being circular hollows in the rock, where 
for ages stones have been whirled round and round 
by the eddies of the water ; so that the interior of the 
pot is as circular and as smooth as it could have been 
made by art. Often the mouth of the pot is the nar- 
rowest part, the inner space being deeply scooped out. 
Water is contained in most of these pot-holes, some- 
times so deep that a man might drown himself there- 
in, and lie undetected at the bottom. Some of them 
are of a convenient size for cooking, which might be 
practicable by putting in hot stones. 

The tavern at Shelburne Falls was about the worst 
I ever saw, — there being hardly anything to eat, at 
least nothing of the meat kind. There was a party of 
students from the Rensselaer school at Troy, who had 
spent the night there, a set of rough urchins, from six- 
teen to twenty years old, accompanied by the wagon- 
driver, a short, stubbed little fellow, who walked about 
with great independence, thrusting his hands into his 
breeches - pockets, beneath his frock. The queerness 
was, such a figure being associated with classic youth. 
They were on an excursion which is yearly made from 
that school in search of minerals. They seemed m 
rather better moral habits than students used to be, 
but wild-spirited, rude, and unpolished, somewhat like 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 185 

German students, which resemblance one or two of 
them increased by smoking pipes. In the morning, 
my breakfast being set in a corner of the same room 
with them, I saw their breakfast - table, with a huge 
wash-bowl of milk in the centre, and a basin and 
spoon placed for each guest. 

In the bar-room of this tavern were posted up writ* 
ten advertisements, the smoked chimney-piece being 
thus made to serve for a newspaper : "I have rye for 
sale," " I have a fine mare colt," etc. There was one 
quaintly expressed advertisement of a horse that had 
strayed or been stolen from a pasture. 

The students, from year to year, have been in search 
of a particular rock, somewhere on the mountains in 
the vicinity of Shelburne Falls, which is supposed to 
contain some valuable ore ; but they cannot find it. 
One man in the bar-room observed that it must be en- 
chanted; and spoke of a tinker, during the Eevolu- 
tionary War, who met with a somewhat similar in- 
stance. Roaming along the Hudson River, he came 
to a precipice which had some bunches of singular ap- 
pearance embossed upon it. He knocked off one of 
the bunches, and carrying it home, or to a camp, or 
wherever he lived, he put it on the fire, and melted it 
down into clear lead. He sought for the spot again 
and again, but could never find it. 

Mr. Leach's brother is a student at Shelburne Falls. 
He is about thirty-five years old, and married; and 
at this mature age he is studying for the ministry, and 
will not finish his course for two or three years. He 
was bred a farmer, but has sold his farm, and invested 
the money, and supports himself and wife by dentistry 
during his studies. Many of the academy students are 
men grown, and some, they say, well towards forty 



186 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

years old. Methinks this is characteristic of American 
life, — these rough, weather-beaten, hard-handed, farm- 
er-bred students. In nine cases out of ten they are in- 
capable of any effectual cultivation ; for men of ripe 
years, if they have any pith in them, will have long 
ago got beyond academy or even college instruction. 
I suspect nothing better than a very wretched smatter- 
ing is to be obtained in these country academies. 

Mr. Jenkins, an instructor at Amherst, speaking of 
the Western mounds, expressed an opinion that they 
were of the same nature and origin as some small cir- 
cular hills which are of very frequent occurrence here 
in North Adams. The burial-ground is on one of 
them, and there is another, on the summit of which ap- 
pears a single tombstone, as if there were something 
natural in making these hills the repositories of the 

dead. A question of old H led to Mr. Jenkins's 

dissertation on this subject, to the great contentment 
of a large circle round the bar-room fireside on the last 
rainy day. 

A tailor is detected by Mr. Leach, because his coat 
had not a single wrinkle in it. I saw him exhibiting 
patterns of fashions to Randall, the village tailor. Mr. 
Leach has much tact in finding out the professions of 
people. He found out a blacksmith, because his right 
hand was much larger than the other. 

A man getting subscriptions for a religious and abo- 
lition newspaper in New York, — somewhat elderly 
and gray-haired, quick in his movements, hasty in his 
walk, with an eager, earnest stare through his specta- 
cles, hurrying about with a pocket-book of subscrip- 
tions in his hand, — seldom speaking, and then in 



X838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 187 

brief expressions, — sitting down before the stage 
comes, to write a list of subscribers obtained to his 
employers in New York. Withal, a city and business 
air about him, as of one accustomed to hurry through 
narrow alleys, and dart across thronged streets, and 
speak hastily to one man and another at jostling cor- 
ners, though now transacting his affairs in the solitude 
of mountains. 

An old, gray man, seemingly astray and abandoned 
in this wide world, sitting in the bar-room, speaking to 
none, nor addressed by any one. Not understanding 
the meaning of the supper-bell till asked to supper by 
word of mouth. However, he called for a glass of 
brandy. 

A pedlar, with girls' neckerchiefs, — or gauze, — 
men's silk pocket-handkerchiefs, red bandannas, and a 
variety of horn combs, trying to trade with the ser- 
vant-girls of the house. One of them, Laura, attempts 
to exchange a worked vandyke, which she values at 
two dollars and a half ; Eliza, being reproached by 
the pedlar, " vows that she buys more of pedlars than 
any other person in the house." 

A drove of pigs passing at dusk. They appeared 
not so much disposed to ramble and go astray from 
the line of march as in daylight, but kept together in 
a pretty compact body. There was a general grunt- 
ing, not violent at all, but low and quiet, as if they 
were expressing their sentiments among themselves in 
a companionable way. Pigs, on a march, do not sub- 
ject themselves to any leader among themselves, but 
pass on, higgledy-piggledy, without regard to age or 
sex. 



188 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

September 1st. — Last evening, during a walk, 
Graylock and the whole of Saddleback were at first 
imbued with a mild, half-sunshiny tinge, then grew 
almost black, — - a huge, dark mass lying on the back 
of the earth and encumbering it. Stretching up from 
behind the black mountain, over a third or more of 
the sky, there was a heavy, sombre blue heap or ledge 
of clouds, looking almost as solid as rocks. The vol» 
umes of which it was composed were perceptible by 
translucent lines and fissures; but the mass, as a 
whole, seemed as solid, bulky, and ponderous in the 
cloud-world as the mountain was on earth. The 
mountain and cloud together had an indescribably 
stern and majestic aspect. Beneath this heavy cloud, 
there was a fleet or flock of light, vapory mists, flitting 
in middle air ; and these were tinted, from the van- 
ished sun, with the most gorgeous and living purple 
that can be conceived, — a fringe upon the stern blue. 
In the opposite quarter of the heavens, a rose -light 
was reflected, whence I know not, which colored the 
clouds around the moon, then well above the horizon, 
so that the nearly round and silver moon appeared 
strangely among roseate clouds, — sometimes half ob- 
scured by them. 

A man with a smart horse, upon which the landlord 
makes laudatory remarks. He replies that he has " a 
better at home." Dressed in a brown, bright-buttoned 
coat, smartly cut. He immediately becomes familiar, 
and begins to talk of the license law, and other similar 
topics, making himself at home, as one who, being 
much of his time upon the road, finds himself at ease 
at any tavern. He inquired after a stage agent, 
named Brigham, who formerly resided here, but now 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 189 

has gone to the "West. He himself was probably a 
horse-jockey, 

An old lady, stopping here over the Sabbath, wait- 
ing for to-morrow's stage for Greenfield, having been 
deceived by the idea that she could proceed on her 
journey without delay. Quiet, making herself comfort- 
able, taken into the society of the women of the house. 

September 3d. — On the slope of Bald Mountain a 
clearing, set in the frame of the forest on all sides, — 
a growth of clover upon it, which, having been mowed 
once this year, is now appropriated to pasturage. 
Stumps remaining in the ground ; one tall, barkless 
stem of a tree standing upright, branchless, and with a 
shattered summit. One or two other stems lying pros- 
trate and partly overgrown with bushes and shrubbery, 
some of them bearing a yellow flower, — a color which 
Autumn loves. The stumps and trunks fire - black- 
ened, yet nothing about them that indicates a recent 
clearing, but the roughness of an old clearing, that, 
being removed from convenient labor, has none of the 
polish of the homestead. The field, with slight undu- 
lations, slopes pretty directly down. Near the lower 
verge, a rude sort of barn, or rather haystack roofed 
over, and with hay protruding and hanging out. An 
ox feeding, and putting up his muzzle to pull down a 
mouthful of hay; but seeing me, a stranger, in the 
upper part of the field, he remains long gazing, and 
finally betakes himself to feeding again. A solitary 
butterfly flitting to and fro, blown slightly on its 
course by a cool September wind, — the coolness of 
which begins to be tempered by a bright, glittering 
sun. There is dew on the grass. In front, beyond 



190 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

the lower spread of forest, Saddle Mountain rises, and 
the valleys, and long, swelling hills sweep away. But 
the impression of this clearing is solitude, as of a for- 
gotten land. 

It is customary here to toll the bell at the death of 
a person, at the hour of his death, whether A. M. or 
p. M. Not, however, I suppose, if it happen in deep 
night. 

" There are three times in a man's life when he is 
talked about, — when he is born, when he is married, 

and when he dies." " Yes," said Orrin S , " and 

only one of the times has he to pay anything for it out 
of his own pocket." (In reference to a claim by the 
guests of the bar-room on the man Amasa Richardson 
for a treat.) 

A wood-chopper, travelling the country in search of 
jobs at chopping. His baggage a bundle, a handker- 
chief, and a pair of coarse boots. His implement an 
axe, most keenly ground and sharpened, which I had 
noticed standing in a corner, and thought it would al- 
most serve as a razor. I saw another wood-chopper 
sitting down on the ascent of Bald Mountain, with his 
axe on one side and a jug and provisions on the other, 
on the way to his day's toil. 

The Revolutionary pensioners come out into the sun- 
shine to make oath that they are still above ground. 

One, whom Mr. S saluted as " Uncle John," went 

into the bar-room, walking pretty stoutly by the aid 
of a long, oaken staff, — with an old, creased, broken 
and ashen bell-crowned hat on his head, and wearing 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 191 

a brown, old-fashioned suit of clothes. Pretty portly, 
fleshy in the face, and with somewhat of a paunch, 
cheerful, and his senses, bodily and mental, in no very 
bad order, though he is now in his ninetieth year. 
"An old withered and wilted apple," quoth Uncle 
John, " keeps a good while." Mr. S— — - says his 
grandfather lived to be a hundred, and that his legs 
became covered with moss, like the trunk of an old 
tree. Uncle John would smile and cackle at a little 
jest, and what life there was in him seemed a good- 
natured and comfortable one enough. He can walk 
two or three miles, he says, " taking it moderate." I 
suppose his state is that of a drowsy man but partly 
conscious of life, — walking as through a dim dream, 
but brighter at some seasons than at others. By and 
by he will fall quite asleep, without any trouble. Mr. 

S , unbidden, gave him a glass of gin, which the 

old man imbibed by the warm fireside, and grew the 
younger for it. 

September 4th. — This day an exhibition of animals 
in the vicinity of the village, under a pavilion of sail- 
cloth, - — the floor being the natural grass, with here 
and there a rock partially protruding. A pleasant, 
mild shade ; a strip of sunshine or a spot of glimmer- 
ing brightness in some parts. Crowded, — row above 
row of women, on an amphitheatre of seats, on one 
side. In an inner pavilion an exhibition of ana- 
condas, — four, — which the showman took, one by 
one, from a large box, under some blankets, and hung 
round his shoulders. They seemed almost torpid 
when first taken out, but gradually began to assume 
life, to stretch, to contract, twine and writhe about his 
neck and person, thrusting out their tongues and 



192 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

erecting their heads. Their weight was as much as 
he could bear, and they hung down almost to the 
ground when not contorted, — as big round as a man's 
thigh, almost, — spotted and richly variegated. Then 
he put them into the box again, their heads emerging 
and writhing forth, which the showman thrust back 
again. He gave a descriptive and historical account 
of them, and a fanciful and poetical one also. A man 
put his arm and head into the lion's mouth, — all the 
spectators looking on so attentively that a breath 
could not be heard. That was impressive, — its ef- 
fect on a thousand persons, — more so than the thing 
itself. 

In the evening the caravan people were at the 
tavern, talking of their troubles in coming over the 
mountain, — the overturn of a cage containing two 
leopards and a hyena. They are a rough, ignorant 
set of men, apparently incapable of taking any partic- 
ular enjoyment from the life of variety and adventure 
which they lead. There was the man who put his 
head into the lion's mouth, and, I suppose, the man 
about whom the anacondas twined, talking about their 
suppers, and blustering for hot meat, and calling for 
something to drink, without anything of the wild dig- 
nity of men familiar with the nobility of nature. 

A character of a desperate young man, who em- 
ploys high courage and strong faculties in this sort of 
dangers, and wastes his talents in wild riot, address- 
ing the audience as a snake-man, — keeping the ring 
while the monkey rides the pony, — singing negro and 
other songSo 

The country boors were continually getting within 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 193 

the barriers, and venturing too near the cages. The 
great lion lay with his fore paws extended, and a calm, 
majestic, but awful countenance. He looked on the 
people as if he had seen many such concourses. The 
hyena was the most ugly and dangerous looking beast, 
full of spite, and on ill terms with all nature, looking 
a good deal like a hog with the devil in him, the ridge 
of hair along his back bristling. He was in the cage 
with a leopard and a panther, and the latter seemed 
continually on the point of laying his paw on the 
hyena, who snarled, and showed his teeth. It is 
strange, though, to see how these wild beasts acknowl- 
edge and practise a degree of mutual forbearance, and 
of obedience to man, with their wild nature yet in 
them. The great white bear seemed in distress from 
the heat, moving his head and body in a, peculiar, fan- 
tastic way, and eagerly drinking water when given it. 
He was thin and lank. 

The caravan men were so sleepy, Orrin S says, 

that he could hardly wake them in the morning. They 
turned over on their faces to show him. 

Coming out of the caravansary, there were the 
mountains, in the quiet sunset, and many men drunk, 
swearing, and fighting Shanties with liquor for sale. 

The elephant lodged in the barn. 

September 5th. — I took a walk of three miles from 
the village, which brought me into Vermont. The 
line runs athwart a bridge, — a rude bridge, which 
crosses a mountain stream. The stream runs deep at 
the bottom of a gorge, plashing downward, with rapids 
and pools, and bestrewn with large rocks, deep and 
shady, not to be reached by the sun except in its 
meridian, as well on account of the depth of the gorge* 

VOL. IX. 13 



194 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

as of the arch of wilderness trees above it. There 
was a stumpy clearing beyond the bridge, where some 
men were building a house. I went to them, and in- 
quired if I were in Massachusetts or Vermont, and 
asked for some water. Whereupon they showed great 
hospitality, and the master - workman went to the 
spring, and brought delicious water in a tin basin, 
and produced another jug containing " new rum, and 
very good ; and rum does nobody any harm if they 
make a good use of it," quoth he. I invited them to 
call on me at the hotel, if they should come to the vil- 
lage within two or three days. Then I took my way 
back through the forest, for this is a by-road, and is, 
much of its course, a sequestrated and wild one, with 
an unseen torrent roaring at an unseen depth, along 
the roadside. 

My walk forth had been an almost continued ascent, 
and, returning, I had an excellent view of Graylock 
and the adjacent mountains, at such a distance that 
they were all brought into one group, and compre- 
hended at one view, as belonging to the same com- 
pany, — all mighty, with a mightier chief. As I drew 
nearer home, they separated, and the unity of effect 
was lost. The more distant then disappeared behind 
the nearer ones, and finally Graylock itself was lost 
behind the hill which immediately shuts in the village. 
There was a warm, autumnal haze, which, I think, 
seemed to throw the mountains farther off, and both 
to enlarge and soften them. 

To imagine the gorges and deep hollows in among 
the group of mountains, — their huge shoulders and 
protrusions. 

" They were just beginning to pitch over the moun- 
tains, as I came along," — stage-driver's expression 
about the caravan. 






1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 195 

A fantastic figure of a village coxcomb, striding 
through the bar-room, and standing with folded arms 
to survey the caravan men. There is much exaggera- 
tion and rattle-brain about this fellow. 

A mad girl leaped from the top of a tremendous 
precipice in Pownall, hundreds of feet high, if the tale 
be true, and, being buoyed up by her clothes, came 
safely to the bottom. 

Inquiries about the coming of the caravan, and 
whether the elephant had got to town, and reports 
that he had. 

A smart, plump, crimson - faced gentleman, with a 
travelling-portmanteau of peculiar neatness and con- 
venience. He criticises the road over the mountain, 
having come in the Greenfield stage ; perhaps an en- 
gineer. 

Bears still inhabit Saddleback and the neighboring 
mountains and forests. Six were taken in Pownall 
last year, and two hundred foxes. Sometimes they 
appear on the hills, in close proximity to this village. 

September 1th. — Mr. Leach and I took a walk by 
moonlight last evening, on the road that leads over 
the mountain. Remote from houses, far up on the 
hill-side, we found a lime-kiln, burning near the road ; 
and, approaching it, a watcher started from the ground, 
where he had been lying at his length. There are sev- 
eral of these lime-kilns in this vicinity. They are cir- 
cular, built with stones, like a round tower, eighteen 
or twenty feet high, having a hillock heaped around in 



196 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

a great portion of their circumference, so that the mar- 
ble may be brought and thrown in by cart-loads at the 
top. At the bottom there is a doorway, large enough 
to admit a man in a stooping posture. Thus an edi- 
fice of great solidity is constructed, which will endure 
for centuries, unless needless pains are taken to tear it 
down. There is one on the hill-side, close to the vil- 
lage, wherein weeds grow at the bottom, and grass and 
shrubs too are rooted in the interstices of the stones, 
and its low doorway has a dungeon-like aspect, and we 
look down from the top as into a roofless tower. It 
apparently has not been used for many years, and the 
lime and weather-stained fragments of marble are scat- 
tered about. 

But in the one we saw last night a hard-wood fire 
was burning merrily, beneath the superincumbent mar- 
ble, —the kiln being heaped full; and shortly after 
we came, the man (a dark, black-bearded figure, in 
shirt-sleeves) opened the iron door, through the chinks 
of which the fire was gleaming, and thrust in huge 
logs of wood, and stirred the immense coals with a 
long pole, and showed us the glowing limestone, — the 
lower layer of it. The heat of the fire was powerful, 
at the distance of several yards from the open door. 
He talked very sensibly with us, being doubtless glad 
to have two visitors to vary his solitary night-watch ; 
for it would not do for him to fall asleep, since the fire 
should be refreshed as often as every twenty minutes. 
We ascended the hillock to the top of the kiln, and 
the marble was red - hot, and burning with a bluish, 
lambent flame, quivering up, sometimes nearly a yard 
high, and resembling the flame of anthracite coal, only, 
the marble being in large fragments, the flame was 
higher. The kiln was perhaps six or eight feet across. 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 197 

Four hundred bushels of marble were then in a state 
of combustion. The expense of converting this quan- 
tity into lime is about fifty dollars, and it sells for 
twenty-five cents per bushel at the kiln. We asked 
the man whether he would run across the top of the 
intensely burning kiln, barefooted, for a thousand dol- 
lars ; and he said he would for ten. He told us that 
the lime had been burning forty-eight hours, and 
would be finished in thirty-six more. He liked the 
business of watching it better by night than by day ; 
because the days were often hot, but such a mild and 
beautiful night as the last was just right. Here a 
poet might make verses with moonlight in them, and 
a gleam of fierce fire-light flickering through. It is a 
shame to use this brilliant, white, almost transparent 
marble in this way. A man said of it, the other day, 
that into some pieces of it, when polished, one could 
see a good distance ; and he instanced a certain grave- 
stone. 

Visited the cave. A large portion of it, where water 
trickles and falls, is perfectly white. The walls pre- 
sent a specimen of how Nature packs the stone, crowd- 
ing huge masses, as it were, into chinks and fissures, 
and here we see it in the perpendicular or horizontal 
layers, as Nature laid it. 

September 9th. — A walk yesterday forenoon through 
the Notch, formed between Saddle Mountain and an- 
other adjacent one. This Notch is otherwise called the 
Bellowspipe, being a long and narrow valley, with a 
steep wall on either side. The walls are very high, 
and the fallen timbers lie strewed adown the precipi- 
tous descent. The valley gradually descends from the 



198 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

narrowest part of the Notch, and a stream of water 
flows through the midst of it, which, farther onward in 
its course, turns a mill. The valley is cultivated, there 
being two or three farm-houses towards the northern 
end, and extensive fields of grass beyond, where stand 
the hay-mows of last year, with the hay cut away reg« 
ularly around their bases. All the more distant por- 
tion of the valley is lonesome in the extreme ; and on 
the hither side of the narrowest part the land is uncul- 
tivated, partly overgrown with forest, partly used as 
sheep-pastures, for which purpose it is not nearly so 
barren as sheep-pastures usually are. On the right, 
facing southward, rises Graylock, all beshagged with 
forest, and with headlong precipices of rock appearing 
among the black pines. Southward there is a most 
extensive view of the valley, in which Saddleback and 
its companion mountains are crouched, — wide and 
far, — a broad, misty valley, fenced in by a mountain 
wall, and with villages scattered along it, and miles of 
forest, which appear but as patches scattered here and 
there upon the landscape. The descent from the Notch 
southward is much more abrupt than on the other side. 
A stream flows down through it ; and along much of 
its course it has washed away all the earth from a 
ledge of rock, and then formed a descending pave- 
ment, smooth and regular, which the scanty flow of 
water scarcely suffices to moisten at this period, though 
a heavy rain, probably, would send down a torrent, 
raging, roaring, and foaming. I descended along the 
course of the stream, and sometimes on the rocky path 
of it, and, turning off towards the south village, fol- 
lowed a cattle-path till I came to a cottage. 

A horse was standing saddled near the door, but I 
did not see the rider. I knocked, and an elderly wo- 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 199 

man, of very pleasing and intelligent aspect, came at 
the summons, and gave me directions how to get to the 
south village through an orchard and " across lots," 
which would bring me into the road near the Quaker 
meeting-house, with gravestones round it. While she 
talked, a young woman came into the pantry from the 
kitchen, with a dirty little brat, whose squalls I had 
heard all along ; the reason of his outcry being that 
his mother was washing him, — a very unusual pro- 
cess, if I may judge by his looks. I asked the old 
lady for some water, and she gave me, I think, the 
most delicious I ever tasted. These mountaineers 
ought certainly to be temperance people ; for their 
mountain springs supply them with a liquor of which 
the cities and the low countries can have no concep- 
tion. Pure, fresh, almost sparkling, exhilarating, — 
such water as Adam and Eve drank. 

I passed the south village on a by-road, without en- 
tering it, and was taken up by the stage from Pitts- 
field a mile or two this side of it. Piatt, the driver, a 
friend of mine, talked familiarly about many matters, 
intermixing his talk with remarks on his team and 
addresses to the beasts composing it, who were three 
mares, and a horse on the near wheel, — all bays. 
The horse he pronounced " a dreadful nice horse to 
go ; but if he could shirk off the work upon the oth- 
ers, he would," — which unfairness Piatt corrected by 
timely strokes of the whip whenever the horse's traces 
were not tightened. One of the mares wished to go 
faster, hearing another horse tramp behind her ; " and 
nothing made her so mad," quoth Piatt, "as to be 
held in when she wanted to go." The near leader 
started. " Oh the little devil," said he, " how skittish 
she is ! " Another stumbled* and Piatt bantered her 



200 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

thereupon. Then he told of floundering through snow- 
drifts in winter, and carrying the mail on his back 
four miles from Bennington. And thus we jogged 
on, and got to " mine inn " just as the dinner-bell was 
ringing. 

Pig-drover, with two hundred pigs. They are much 
more easily driven on rainy days than on fair ones. 
One of his pigs, a large one, particularly troublesome 
as to running off the road towards every object, and 
leading the drove. Thirteen miles about a day's jour- 
ney, in the course of which the drover has to travel 
about thirty. 

They have a dog, who runs to and fro indefatigably, 
barking at those who straggle on the flanks of the line 
of march, then scampering to the other side and bark- 
ing there, and sometimes having quite an affair of 
barking and surly grunting with some refractory pig, 
who has found something to munch, and refuses to 
quit it. The pigs are fed on corn at their halts. The 
drove has some ultimate market, and individuals are 
peddled out on the march. Some die. 

Merino sheep (which are much raised in Berkshire) 
are good for hardly anything to eat, — a fair-sized 
quarter dwindling down to almost nothing in the pro- 
cess of roasting. 

The tavern-keeper in Stockbridge, an elderly bach- 
elor, — a dusty, black-dressed, antiquated figure, with 
a white neck-cloth setting off a dim, yellow complex- 
ion, looking like one of the old wax-figures of minis- 
ters in a corner of the New England Museum. He 
did not seem old, but like a middle-aged man, who had 
been preserved in some dark and cobwebby corner for 
a great while. He is asthmatic. 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 201 

In Connecticut, and also sometimes in Berkshire, 
the villages are situated on the most elevated ground 
that can be found, so that they are visible for miles 
around. Litchfield is a remarkable instance, occupy- 
ing a high plain, without the least shelter from the 
winds, and with almost as wide an expanse of view as 
from a mountain-top. The streets are very wide, — ~ 
two or three hundred feet, at least, — with wide, green 
margins, and sometimes there is a wide green space 
between two road tracks. Nothing can be neater than 
the churches and houses. The graveyard is on the 
slope, and at the foot of a swell, filled with old and 
new gravestones, some of red freestone, some of gray 
granite, most of them of white marble, and one of cast- 
iron with an inscription of raised letters. There was 
one of the date of about 1776, on which was repre- 
sented the third-length, bas-relief portrait of a gentle- 
man in a wig and other costume of that day ; and as 
a framework about this portrait was wreathed a gar- 
land of vine-leaves and heavy clusters of grapes. The 
deceased should have been a jolly bottleman ; but the 
epitaph indicated nothing of the kind. 

In a remote part of the graveyard, — remote from 
the main body of dead people, — I noticed a humble, 
mossy stone, on which 1 traced out " To the memory 
of Julia Africa, servant of Rev." somebody. There 
were also the half-obliterated traces of other graves, 
without any monuments, in the vicinity of this one. 
Doubtless the slaves here mingled their dark clay with 
the earth. 

At Litchfield there is a doctor who undertakes to 
cure deformed people, — and humpbacked, lame, and 
otherwise defective folk go there. Besides these, there 
were many ladies and others boarding there, for the 
benefit of the air, I suppose. 



202 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

At Canaan, Connecticut, before the tavern, there is 
a doorstep, two or three paces large in each of its di- 
mensions ; and on this is inscribed the date when the 
builder of the house came to the town, — namely, 
1731. The house was built in 1751. Then follows 
the age and death of the patriarch (at over ninety) 
and his wife, and the births of, I think, eleven sons 
and daughters. It would seem as if they were buried 
underneath; and many people take that idea. It is 
odd to put a family record in a spot where it is sure 
to be trampled underfoot. 

At Springfield, a blind man, who came in the stage, 
— elderly, — sitting in the reading-room, and, as soon 
as seated, feeling all around him with his cane, so as 
to find out his locality, and know where he may spit 
with safety! The cautious and scientific air with 
which he measures his distances. Then he sits still 
and silent a long while, — then inquires the hour, — 
then says, " I should like to go to bed." Nobody of 
the house being near, he receives no answer, and re- 
peats impatiently, " I '11 go to bed." One would sup- 
pose, that, conscious of his dependent condition, he 
would have learned a different sort of manner ; but 
probably he has lived where he could command at- 
tention. 

Two travellers, eating bread and cheese of their own 
in the bar-room at Stockbridge, and drinking water 
out of a tumbler borrowed from the landlord. Eating 
immensely, and, when satisfied, putting the relics in 
their trunk, and rubbing down the table. 

Sample ears of various kinds of corn hanging over 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 203 

the looking-glass or in the bars of taverns. Four ears 
on a stalk (good ones) are considered a heavy har- 
vest. 

A withered, yellow, sodden, dead-alive looking wo- 
man, — an opium-eater. A deaf man, with a great 
fancy for conversation, so that his interlocutor is com- 
pelled to halloo and bawl over the rumbling of the 
coach, amid which he hears best. The sharp tones of 
a woman's voice appear to pierce his dull organs much 
better than a masculine voice. The impossibility of 
saying anything but commonplace matters to a deaf 
man, of expressing any delicacy of thought in a raised 
tone, of giving utterance to fine feelings in a bawl. 
This man's deafness seemed to have made his mind 
and feelings uncommonly coarse ; for, after the opium- 
eater had renewed an old acquaintance with him, al- 
most the first question he asked, in his raised voice, 
was, " Do you eat opium now ? " 

At Hartford, the keeper of a temperance hotel read- 
ing a Hebrew Bible in the bar by means of a lexicon 
and an English version. 

A negro, respectably dressed, and well-mounted on 
horseback, travelling on his own hook, calling for oats, 
and drinking a glass of brandy-and-water at the bar, 
like any other Christian. A young man from Wis- 
consin said, " I wish I had a thousand such fellows in 
Alabama." It made a strange impression on me, — 
the negro was really so human ! — and to talk of own- 
ing a thousand like him ! 

Left North Adams September 11th. Reached home 
September 24th, 1838. 



204 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

October 1\th. — View from a chamber of the Tre- 
mont of the brick edifice opposite, on the other side 
of Beacon Street. At one of the lower windows, 
a woman at work; at one above, a lady hemming a 
ruff or some such lady-like thing. She is pretty, 
young, and married; for a little boy comes to her 
knees, and she parts his hair, and caresses him in a 
motherly way. A note on colored paper is brought 
her ; and she reads it, and puts it in her bosom. At 
another window, at some depth within the apartment, 
a gentleman in a dressing-gown, reading, and rocking 
in an easy-chair, etc., etc., etc. A rainy day, and peo- 
ple passing with umbrellas disconsolately between the 
spectator and these various scenes of indoor occupation 
and comfort. With this sketch might be mingled and 
worked up some story that was going on within the 
chamber where the spectator was situated. 

All the dead that had ever been drowned in a cer- 
tain lake to arise. 

The history of a small lake from the first, till it was 
drainedo 

An autumnal feature, — boys had swept together 
the fallen leaves from the elms along the street in one 
huge pile, and had made a hollow, nest-shaped, in this 
pile, in which three or four of them lay curled, like 
voun£ birds. 

A tombstone-maker, whom Miss B y knew, used 

to cut cherubs on the top of the tombstones, and had 
the art of carving the cherubs' faces in the likeness of 
the deceased. 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS, 205 

A child of Rev. E. P was threatened with to- 
tal blindness. A week after the father had been in- 
formed of this, the child died ; and, in the mean while, 
his feelings had become so much the more interested 
in the child, from its threatened blindness, that it was 
infinitely harder to give it up. Had he not been 
aware of it till after the child's death, it would prob- 
ably have been a consolation. 

Singular character of a gentleman (H. H — , 



Esq.) living in retirement in Boston, — esteemed a 
man of nicest honor, and his seclusion attributed to 
wounded feelings on account of the failure of his firm 
in business. Yet it was discovered that this man had 
been the mover of intrigues by which men in business 
had been ruined, and their property absorbed, none 
knew how or by whom ; love-affairs had been broken 
off, and much other mischief done ; and for years he 
was not in the least suspected. He died suddenly, 
soon after suspicion fell upon him. Probably it was 
the love of management, of having an influence on 
affairs, that produced these phenomena. 

Character of a man who, in himself and his exter- 
nal circumstances, shall be equally and totally false : 
his fortune resting on baseless credit, — his patriotism 
assumed, — his domestic affections, his honor and hon- 
esty, all a sham. His own misery in the midst of it, 
— it making the whole universe, heaven and earth 
alike, an unsubstantial mockery to him. 

Dr. Johnson's penance in Uttoxeter Market. A 
man who does penance in what might appear to look- 
ers-on the most glorious and triumphal circumstance 



206 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1838. 

of his life. Each circumstance of the career of an 
apparently successful man to be a penance and tor- 
ture to him on account of some fundamental error in 
early life. 

A person to catch fire-flies, and try to kindle his 
household fire with them. It would be symbolical of 
something. 

Thanksgiving at the Worcester Lunatic Asylum. 
A ball and dance of the inmates in the evening, — 
a furious lunatic dancing with the principal's wife. 
Thanksgiving in an almshouse might make a better 
sketch. 

The house on the eastern corner of North and Es- 
sex Streets [Salem], supposed to have been built 
about 1640, had, say sixty years later, a brick turret 
erected, wherein one of the ancestors of the present 
occupants used to practise alchemy. He was the op- 
erative of a scientific person in Boston, the director. 
There have been other alchemists of old in this town, 
■ — one who kept his fire burning seven weeks, and 
then lost the elixir by letting it go out. 

An ancient wineglass (Miss Ingersol's), long-stalked, 
with a small, cup-like bowl, round which is wreathed 
a branch of grape-vine, with a rich cluster of grapes, 
and leaves spread out. There is also some kind of 
a bird flying. The whole is excellently cut or en- 
graved. 

In the Duke of Buckingham's comedy, " The 
Chances," Don Frederic says of Don John (they are 



1838.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 207 

two noble Spanish gentlemen), " One bed contains us 



A person, while awake and in the business of life, 
to think highly of another, and place perfect confi« 
dence in him, but to be troubled with dreams in which 
this seeming friend appears to act the part of a most 
deadly enemy. Finally it is discovered that the dream~ 
character is the true one. The explanation would be 
— the soul's instinctive perception. 

Pandora's box for a child's story. 

Moonlight is sculpture ; sunlight is painting. 

" A person to look back on a long life ill-spent, and 
to picture forth a beautiful life which he would live, 
if he could be permitted to begin his life over again. 
Finally to discover that he had only been dreaming of 
old age, — that he was really young, and could live 
such a life as he had pictured." 

A newspaper, purporting to be published in a fam- 
ily, and satirizing the political and general world by 
advertisements, remarks on domestic affairs, — adver- 
tisement of a lady's lost thimble, etc. 

L. H . She was unwilling to die, because she 

had no friends to meet her in the other world. Her 
little son F. being very ill, on his recovery she con- 
fessed a feeling of disappointment, having supposed 
that he would have gone before, and welcomed her 
into heaven ! 



208 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1839. 

H. L. C heard from a French Canadian a story 

of a young couple in Acadie. On their marriage day, 
all the men of the Province were summoned to assem- 
ble in the church to hear a proclamation. When as- 
sembled, they were all seized and shipped off to be 
distributed through New England, — among them the 
new bridegroom. His bride set off in search of him, 
— wandered about New England all her lifetime, and 
at last, when she was old, she found her bridegroom 
on his death-bed. The shock was so great that it 
killed her likewise. 

January 4th, 1839. — When scattered clouds are 
resting on the bosoms of hills, it seems as if one might 
climb into the heavenly region, earth being so inter- 
mixed with sky, and gradually transformed into it. 

A stranger, dying, is buried ; and after many years 
two strangers come in search of his grave, and open 
it. 

The strange sensation of a person who feels him- 
self an object of deep interest, and close observation, 
and various construction of all his actions, by another 
person. 

Letters in the shape of figures of men, etc. At a 
distance, the words composed by the letters are alone 
distinguishable. Close at hand, the figures alone are 
seen, and not distinguished as letters. Thus things 
may have a positive, a relative, and a composite mean- 
ing, according to the point of view. 

" Passing along the street, all muddy with puddles, 



1839.J AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 209 

and suddenly seeing the sky reflected in these puddles 
in such a way as quite to conceal the foulness of the 
street." 

A young man in search of happiness, — to he per- 
sonified by a figure whom he expects to meet in a 
crowd, and is to be recognized by certain signs. All 
these signs are given by a figure in various garbs and 
actions, but he does not recognize that this is the 
sought-for person till too late. 

If cities were built by the sound of music, then 
some edifices would appear to be constructed by grave, 
solemn tones, — others to have danced forth to light, 
fantastic airs. 

Familiar spirits, according to Lilly, used to be worn 
in rings, watches, sword-hilts. Thumb-rings were set 
with jewels of extraordinary size. 

A very fanciful person, when dead, to have his 
burial in a cloud. 

" A story there passeth of an Indian king that sent 
unto Alexander a fair woman, fed with aconite and 
other poisons, with this intent complexionally to de- 
stroy him ! " — Sir T. Browne- 

Dialogues of the unborn, like dialogues of the dead, 
— or between two young children. 

A mortal symptom for a person being to lose his 
own aspect and to take the family lineaments, which 
were hidden deep in the healthful visage. Perhaps a 

VOL. IX. 14 



210 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1840, 

seeker might thus recognize the man he had sought, 
after long intercourse with him unknowingly. 

Some moderns to build a fire on Ararat with the 
remnants of the ark. 

Two little boats of cork, with a magnet in one and 
steel in the other. 

To have ice in one's blood. 

To make a story of all strange and impossible things, 
— as the Salamander, the Phoenix. 

The semblance of a human face to be formed on the 
side of a mountain, or in the fracture of a small stone, 
by a lusus naturce. The face is an object of curiosity 
for years or centuries, and by and by a boy is born, 
whose features gradually assume the aspect of that 
portrait. At some critical juncture, the resemblance 
is found to be perfect. A prophecy may be con- 
nected. 

A person to be the death of his beloved in trying to 
raise her to more than mortal perfection ; yet this 
should be a comfort to him for having aimed so highly 
and holily. 

1840. — A man, unknown, conscious of temptation 
to secret crimes, puts up a note in church, desiring the 
prayers of the congregation for one so tempted. 

Some most secret thing, valued and honored be-, 
tween lovers, to be hung up in public places, and 



1840. J AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 211 

made the subject of remark by the city, — remarks, 
sneers, and laughter. 

To make a story out of a scarecrow, giving it odd 
attributes. From different points of view, it should 
appear to change, — now an old man, now an old wo« 
man, — a gunner, a farmer, or the Old Nick. 

A ground-sparrow's nest in the slope of a bank, 
brought to view by mowing the grass, but still shel- 
tered and comfortably hidden by a blackberry-vine 
trailing over it. At first, four brown-speckled eggs, 
— then two little bare young ones, which, on the 
slightest noise, lift their heads, and open wide mouths 
for food, — immediately dropping their heads, after a 
broad gape. The action looks as if they were making 
a most earnest, agonized petition. In another egg, as 
in a coffin, I could discern the quiet, death-like form 
of the little bird. The whole thing had something 
awful and mysterious in it. 

A coroner's inquest on a murdered man, — the gath- 
ering of the jury to be described, and the characters 
of the members, — some with secret guilt upon their 
souls. 

To represent a man as spending life and the intens- 
est labor in the accomplishment of some mechanical 
trifle, — as in making a miniature coach to be drawn 
by fleas, or a dinner-service to be put into a cherry- 
stone. 

A bonfire to be made of the gallows and of all sym- 
bols of evil. 



212 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1840. 

The love of posterity is a consequence of the neces- 
sity of death. If a man were sure" of living forever 
here, he would not care about his offspring. 

The device of a sundial for a monument over a 
grave, with some suitable motto. 

A man with the right perception of things, — a feel- 
ing within him of what is true and what is false. It 
might be symbolized by the talisman with which, in 
fairy tales, an adventurer was enabled to distinguish 
enchantments from realities. 

A phantom of the old royal governors, or some such 
shadowy pageant, on the night of the evacuation of 
Boston by the British. 

taking my likeness, I said that such changes 

would come over my face that she would not know me 
when we met again in heaven. " See if I do not ! " 
said she, smiling. There was the most peculiar and 
beautiful humor in the point itself, and in her manner, 
that can be imagined. 

Little F. H used to look into E 's mouth 

to see where her smiles came from. 

" There is no Measure for Measure to my affections. 
If the earth fails me, I can die, and go to God," 
said . 

Selfishness is one of the qualities apt to inspire 
love. This might be thought out at great length. 



1839.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 213 

EXTRACTS FROM HIS PRIVATE LETTERS. 

Boston, July 3d, 1839. — I do not mean to imply 
that I am unhappy or discontented, for this is not the 
case. My life only is a burden in the same way that 
it is to every toilsome man ; and mine is a healthy 
weariness, such as needs only a night's sleep to remove 
it. But from henceforth forever I shall be entitled to 
call the sons of toil my brethren, and shall know how 
to sympathize with them, seeing that I likewise have 
risen at the dawn, and borne the fervor of the midday 
sun, nor turned my heavy footsteps homeward till 
eventide. Years hence, perhaps, the experience that 
my heart is acquiring now will flow out in truth and 
wisdom. 

August 27th. — I have been stationed all day at 
the end of Long Wharf, and I rather think that I had 
the most eligible situation of anybody in Boston. I 
was aware that it must be intensely hot in the midst of 
the city ; but there was only a short space of uncom- 
fortable heat in my region, half-way towards the cen- 
tre of the harbor ; and almost all the time there was a 
pure and delightful breeze, fluttering and palpitating, 
sometimes shyly kissing my brow, then dying away, 
and then rushing upon me in livelier sport, so that 
I was fain to settle my straw hat more tightly upon 
my head. Late in the afternoon, there was a sunny 
shower, which came down so like a benediction that it 
seemed ungrateful to take shelter in the cabin or to 
put up an umbrella. Then there was a rainbow, or 
a large segment of one, so exceedingly brilliant and 
of such long endurance that I almost fancied it was 
stained into the sky, and would continue there per- 



214 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1840. 

manently. And there were clouds floating all about, 
— great clouds and small, of all glorious and lovely 
hues (save that imperial crimson which was revealed 
to our united gaze), — so glorious, indeed, and so 
lovely, that I had a fantasy of heaven's being broken 
into fleecy fragments and dispersed through space, 
with its blest inhabitants dwelling blissfully upon 
those scattered islands. 

February 1th, 1840. — What beautiful weather 
this is ! — beautiful, at least, so far as sun, sky, and 
atmosphere are concerned, though a poor, wingless 
biped is sometimes constrained to wish that he could 
raise himself a little above the earth. How much mud 
and mire, how many pools of unclean water, how many 
slippery footsteps, and perchance heavy tumbles, might 
be avoided, if we could tread but six inches above the 
crust of this world. Physically we cannot do this ; 
our bodies cannot ; but it seems to me that our hearts 
and minds may keep themselves above moral mud- 
puddles and other discomforts of the soul's pathway. 

February 11th. — I have been measuring coal all 
day, on board of a black little British schooner, in a 
dismal dock at the north end of the city. Most of the 
time I paced the deck to keep myself warm ; for the 
wind (northeast, I believe) blew up through the dock, 
as if it had been the pipe of a pair of bellows. The 
vessel lying deep between two wharves, there was no 
more delightful prospect, on the right hand and on 
the left, than the posts and timbers, half immersed in 
the water, and covered with ice, which the rising and 
falling of successive tides had left upon them, so that 
they looked like immense icicles. Across the water, 



1840.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 215 

however, not more than half a mile off, appeared the 
Bunker Hill Monument ; and, what interested me con- 
siderably more, a church-steeple, with the dial of a 
clock upon it, whereby I was enabled to measure the 
march of the weary hours. Sometimes I descended 
into the dirty little cabin of the schooner, and warmed 
myself by a red-hot stove, among biscuit-barrels, pots 
and kettles, sea-chests, and innumerable lumber of all 
sorts, — my olfactories, meanwhile, being greatly re- 
freshed by the odor of a pipe, which the captain, or 
some one of his crew, was smoking. But at last came 
the sunset, with delicate clouds, and a purple light 
upon the islands ; and I blessed it, because it was the 
signal of my release. 

February 12th. — All day long again have I been 
engaged in a very black business, — as black as a 
coal ; and, though my face and hands have undergone 
a thorough purification, I feel not altogether fit to hold 
communion with doves. Methinks my profession is 
somewhat akin to that of a chimney-sweeper ; but the 
latter has the advantage over me, because, after climb- 
ing up through the darksome flue of the chimney, he 
emerges into the midst of the golden air, and sings 
out his melodies far over the heads of the whole tribe 
of weary earth-plodders. My toil to-day has been cold 
and dull enough ; nevertheless, I was neither cold nor 
dull. 

If arch 15th. — I pray that in one year more I may 
find some way of escaping from this unblest Custom 
House ; for it is a very grievous thraldom. I do de- 
test all offices, — all, at least, that are held on a polit- 
ical tenure. And I want nothing to do with politi- 



216 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1840. 

cians. Their hearts wither away and die out of their 
bodies. Their consciences are turned to india-rubber, 
or to some substance as black as that, and which will 
stretch as much. One thing, if no more, I have gained 
by my custom house experience, — to know a politi- 
cian. It is a knowledge which no previous thought 
or power of sympathy could have taught me, because 
the animal, or the machine rather, is not in nature. 

March 2&d. — I do think that it is the doom laid 
upon me, of murdering so many of the brightest hours 
of the day at the Custom House, that makes such 
havoc with my wits, for here I am again trying to 
write worthily, . . . yet with a sense as if all the 
noblest part of man had been left out of my composi- 
tion, or had decayed out of it since my nature was 
given to my own keeping. . . . Never comes any bird 
of Paradise into that dismal region. A salt or even 
a coal ship is ten million times preferable ; for there 
the sky is above me, and the fresh breeze around me, 
and my thoughts, having hardly anything to do with 
my occupation, are as free as air. 

Nevertheless, you are not to fancy that the above 
paragraph gives a correct idea of my mental and 
spiritual state. ... It is only once in a while that the 
image and desire of a better and happier life makes 
me feel the iron of my chain ; for, after all, a human 
spirit may find no insufficiency of food fit for it, even 
in the Custom House. And, with such materials as 
these, I do think and feel and learn things that are 
worth knowing, and which I should not know unless 
I had learned them there, so that the present portion 
of my life shall not be quite left out of the sum of 
my real existence. ... It is good for me, on many 



1840.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 2YI 

accounts, that my life has had this passage in it. I 
know much more than I did a year ago. I have a 
stronger sense of power to act as a man among men. 
I have gained worldly wisdom, and wisdom also that 
is not altogether of this world. And, when I quit this 
earthly cavern where I am now buried, nothing will 
cling to me that ought to be left behind. Men will 
not perceive, I trust, by my look, or the tenor of my 
thoughts and feelings, that I have been a custom house 
officer. 

April 1th. — It appears to me to have been the 
most uncomfortable day that ever was inflicted on poor 
mortals. . . . Besides the bleak, unkindly air, I have 
been plagued by two sets of coal - shovellers at the 
same time, and have been obliged to keep two sepa- 
rate tallies simultaneously. But I was conscious that 
all this was merely a vision and a fantasy, and that, 
in reality, I was not half frozen by the bitter blast, 
nor tormented by those grimy coal-heavers, but that I 
was basking quietly in the sunshine of eternity. . . . 
Any sort of bodily and earthly torment may serve to 
make us sensible that we have a soul that is not with- 
in the jurisdiction of such shadowy demons, — it sep- 
arates the immortal within us from the mortal. But 
the wind has blown my brains into such confusion 
that I cannot philosophize now. 

April 19th. — ... What a beautiful day was yes- 
terday ! My spirit rebelled against being confined 
in my darksome dungeon at the Custom House. It 
seemed a sin, — a murder of the joyful young day, — 
a quenching of the sunshine. Nevertheless, there I 
was kept a prisoner till it was too late to fling myself 



218 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1840. 

on a gentle wind, and be blown away into the country. 
. . . When I shall be again free, I will enjoy all 
things with the fresh simplicity of a child of five years 
old. I shall grow young again, made all over anew. 
I will go forth and stand in a summer shower, and all 
the worldly dust that has collected on me shall be 
washed away at once, and my heart will be like a bank 
of fresh flowers for the weary to rest upon. . . . 

6 p. m. — I went out to walk about an hour ago, 
and found it very pleasant, though there was a some- 
what cool wind. I went round and across the Com- 
mon, and stood on the highest point of it, where I 
could see miles and miles into the country. Blessed 
be God for this green tract, and the view which it af- 
fords, whereby we poor citizens may be put in mind, 
sometimes, that all his earth is not composed of blocks 
of brick houses, and of stone or wooden pavements. 
Blessed be God for the sky, too, though the smoke of 
the city may somewhat change its aspect, — but still it 
is better than if each street were covered over with a 
roof. There were a good many people walking on the 
mall, — mechanics apparently, and shopkeepers' clerks, 
with their wives ; and boys were rolling on the grass, 
and I would have liked to lie down and roll too. 

April 30th. — ... I arose this morning feeling 
more elastic than I have throughout the winter ; for 
the breathing of the ocean air has wrought a very 
beneficial effect. . . . What a beautiful, most beauti- 
ful afternoon this has been ! It was a real happiness 
to live. If I had been merely a vegetable, — a haw- 
thorn-bush, for instance, — I must have been happy 
in such an air and sunshine ; but, having a mind and 
a soul, ... I enjoyed somewhat more than mere veg- 



1840.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOORS. 219 

etable happiness. . . . The footsteps of May can be 
traced upon the islands in the harbor, and 1 have been 
watching the tints of green upon them gradually deep- 
ening, till now they are almost as beautiful as they ever 
can be. 

May Vdth. — . . . Lights and shadows are continu- 
ally flitting across my inward sky, and I know nei- 
ther whence they come nor whither they go ; nor do 
I inquire too closely into them. It is dangerous to 
look too minutely into such phenomena. It is apt to 
create a substance where at first there was a mere 
shadow. ... If at any time there should seem to be 
an expression unintelligible from one soul to another, 
it is best not to strive to interpret it in earthly lan- 
guage, but wait for the soul to make itself understood ; 
and, were we to wait a thousand years, we need deem 
it no more time than we can spare. ... It is not that 
I have any love of mystery, but because I abhor it, and 
because I have often felt that words may be a thick 
and darksome veil of mystery between the soul and 
the truth which it seeks. Wretched were we, indeed, 
if we had no better means of communicating ourselves, 
no fairer garb in which to array our essential being, 
than these poor rags and tatters of Babel. Yet words 
are not without their, use even for purposes of expla- 
nation, — but merely for explaining outward acts and 
all sorts of external things, leaving the soul's life and 
action to explain itself in its own way. 

What a misty disquisition I have scribbled ! I 
would not read it over for sixpence. 

May 29^. — Rejoice with me, for I am free from 
a load of coal which has been pressing upon my shoul 



220 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1840. 

ders throughout all the hot weather. I am convinced 
that Christian's burden consisted of coal; and no won- 
der he felt so much relieved, when it fell off and rolled 
into the sepulchre. His load, however, at the utmost, 
could not have been more than a few bushels, whereas 
mine was exactly one hundred and thirty - five chal- 
drons and seven tubs. 

May 30th. — ... On board my salt - vessels and 
colliers there are many things happening, many pic- 
tures which, in future years, when I am again busy at 
the loom of fiction, I could weave in ; but my fancy is 
tendered so torpid by my ungenial way of life that I 
cannot sketch off the scenes and portraits that inter- 
est me, and I am forced to trust them to my memory, 
with the hope of recalling them at some more favora- 
ble period. For these three or four days I have been 
observing a little Mediterranean boy from Malaga, not 
more than ten or eleven years old, but who is already 
a citizen of the world, and seems to be just as gay 
and contented on the deck of a Yankee coal-vessel as 
he could be while playing beside his mother's door. It 
is really touching to see how free and happy he is, — 
how the little fellow takes the whole wide world for 
his home, and all mankind for his family. He talks 
Spanish, — at least that is his native tongue ; but he 
is also very intelligible in English, and perhaps he 
likewise has smatterings of the speech of other coun- 
tries, whither the winds may have wafted this little 
sea-bird. He is a Catholic ; and yesterday being Fri- 
day he caught some fish and fried them for his dinner 
in sweet-oil, and really they looked so delicate that I 
almost wished he would invite me to partake. Every 
once in a while he undresses himself and leaps over- 



1840.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 221 

board, plunging down beneath the waves as if the sea 
were as native to him as the earth. Then he runs up 
the rigging of the vessel as if he meant to fly away 
through the air. I must remember this little boy, and 
perhaps I may make something more beautiful of him 
than these rough and imperfect touches would promise. 

June Wth. — . . . I could wish that the east-wind 
would blow every day from ten o'clock till five ; for 
there is great refreshment in it to us poor mortals that 
toil beneath the sun. We must not think too unkindly 
even of the east-wind. It is not, perhaps, a wind to 
be loved, even in its benignest moods ; but there are 
seasons when I delight to feel its breath upon my 
cheek, though it be never advisable to throw open my 
bosom and take it into my heart, as I would its gentle 
sisters of the south and west. To-day, if I had been 
on the wharves, the slight chill of an east-wind would 
have been a blessing, like the chill of death to a world- 
weary man. 

. . . But this has been one of the idlest days that I 
ever spent in Boston. ... In the morning, soon af- 
ter breakfast, I went to the Athenaeum gallery, and, 
during the hour or two that I stayed, not a single vis- 
itor came in. Some people were putting up paintings 
in one division of the room ; but I had the other all to 
myself. There are two pictures there by our friend 
Sarah Clarke, — scenes in Kentucky. 

From the picture-gallery I went to the reading- 
rooms of the Athenaeum, and there read the maga- 
zines till nearly twelve ; thence to the Custom House, 
and soon afterwards to dinner with Colonel Hall ; then 
back to the Custom House, but only for a little while. 
There was nothing in the world to do, and so at two 



222 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1840. 

o'clock I came home and lay down, with the " Faerie 
Queene " in my hand. 

August 21st. — Last night I slept like a child ol 
five years old, and had no dreams at all, ■ — unless just 
before it was time to rise, and I have forgotten what 
those dreams were. After I was fairly awake this 
morning, I felt very bright and airy, and was glad 
that I had been compelled to snatch two additional 
hours of existence from annihilation. The sun's disk 
was but half above the ocean's verge when I ascended 
the ship's side. These early morning hours are very 
lightsome and quiet. Almost the whole day I have 
been in the shade, reclining on a pile of sails, so that 
the life and spirit are not entirely worn out of me. 
. . . The wind has been east this afternoon, — per- 
haps in the forenoon, too, — and I could not help 
feeling refreshed, when the gentle chill of its breath 
stole over my cheek. I would- fain abominate the 
east-wind, . . . but it persists in doing me kindly of- 
fices now and then. What a perverse wind it is ! Its 
refreshment is but another mode of torment. 

Salem, Oct. Ath. Union Street [Family Man' 
sion\ . — ... Here I sit in my old accustomed cham- 
ber, where I used to sit in days gone by. . . . Here 
I have written many tales, — many that have been 
burned to ashes, many that doubtless deserved the 
same fate. This claims to be called a haunted cham- 
ber, for thousands upon thousands of visions have ap- 
peared to me in it ; and some few of them have be- 
come visible to the world. If ever I should have a 
biographer, he ought to make great mention of this 
chamber in my memoirs, because so much of my lonely 



2840.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 223 

youth was wasted here, and here my mind and char- 
acter were formed ; and here I have been glad and 
hopeful, and here I have been despondent. And here 
I sat a long, long time, waiting patiently for the world 
to know me, and sometimes wondering why it did not 
know me sooner, or whether it would ever know me 
at all, — at least, till I were in my grave. And some- 
times it seemed as if I were already in the grave, with 
only life enough to be chilled and benumbed. But 
oftener I was happy, — at least, as happy as I then 
knew how to be, or was aware of the possibility of be- 
ing. By and by, the world found me out in my lonely 
chamber, and called me forth, — not, indeed, with a 
loud roar of acclamation, but rather with a still, small 
voice, — ■ and forth I went, but found nothing in the 
world that I thought preferable to my old solitude till 
now. . . . And now I begin to understand why I was 
imprisoned so many years in this lonely chamber, and 
why I could never break through the viewless bolts and 
bars ; for if I had sooner made my escape into the 
world, I should have grown hard and rough, and been 
covered with earthly dust, and my heart might have 
become callous by rude encounters with the multitude. 
. . . But living in solitude till the fulness of time was 
come, I still kept the dew of my youth and the fresh- 
ness of my heart. ... I used to think I could im* 
agine all passions, all feelings, and states of the heart 
and mind ; but how little did I know ! . . . Indeed, 
we are but shadows ; we are not endowed with real 
life, and all that seems most real about us is but the 
thinnest substance of a dream, — till the heart be 
touched. That touch creates us, — then we begin to 
be, — thereby we are beings of reality and inheritors 
of eternity. . . . 



224 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1840. 

When we shall be endowed with our spiritual bod- 
ies, I think that they will be so constituted that we 
may send thoughts and feelings any distance in no 
time at all, and transfuse them warm and fresh into 
the consciousness of those whom we love. . . . But, 
after all, perhaps it is not wise to intermix fantastic 
ideas with the reality of affection. Let us content our- 
selves to be earthly creatures, and hold communion of 
spirit in such modes as are ordained to us. . . . 

I was not at the end of Long Wharf to-day, but in 
a distant region, — my authority having been put in 
requisition to quell a rebellion of the captain and 
" gang " of shovellers aboard a coal-vessel. I would 
you could have beheld the awful sternness of my vis- 
age and demeanor in the execution of this momentous 
duty. Well, — I have conquered the rebels, and pro- 
claimed an amnesty ; so to-morrow I shall return to 
that paradise of measurers, the end of Long Wharf, — ■ 
not to my former salt-ship, she being now discharged, 
but to another, which will probably employ me well- 
nigh a fortnight longer. . . . Salt is white and pure, 
r— there is something holy in salt. . . . 

I have observed that butterflies — very broad-winged 
and magnificent butterflies — frequently come on board 
of the salt-ship, where I am at work. What have 
these bright strangers to do on Long Wharf, where 
there are no flowers nor any green thing, — nothing 
but brick storehouses, stone piers, black ships, and the 
bustle of toilsome men, who neither look up to the 
blue sky, nor take note of these wandering gems of 
the air ? I cannot account for them, unless they are 
the lovely fantasies of the mind. 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 225 

November. — ■ . . . How delightfully long the even- 
ings are now! I do not get intolerably tired any 
longer, and my thoughts sometimes wander back to 
literature, and I have momentary impulses to write 
stories. But this will not be at present. The utmost 
that I can hope to do will be to portray some of the 
characteristics of the life which I am now living, and 
of the people with whom I am brought into contact, 
for future use. . . . The days are cold now, the air 
eager and nipping, yet it suits my health amazingly. 
I feel as if I could run a hundred miles at a stretch, 
and jump over all the houses that happen to be in my 
way. . . . 

I have never had the good luck to profit much, or 
indeed any, by attending lectures, so that I think the 
ticket had better be bestowed on somebody who can 

listen to Mr. more worthily. My evenings are 

very precious to me, and some of them are unavoid- 
ably thrown away in paying or receiving visits, or in 
writing letters of business, and therefore I prize the 
rest as if the sands of the hour-glass were gold or dia- 
mond dust. 

I was invited to dine at Mr. Bancroft's yesterday, 
with Miss Margaret Fuller ; but Providence had given 
me some business to do, for which I was very thankful. 

Is not this a beautiful morning? The sun shines 
into my soul. 

April 1841. — ... I have been busy all day, from 
early breakfast-time till late in the afternoon ; and old 
Father Time has gone onward somewhat less heavily 
than is his wont when I am imprisoned within the 
walls of the Custom House, It has been a brisk, 

VOL. IX. 15 



226 AMEB.ICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

breezy day, an effervescent atmosphere, and I have en- 
joyed it in all its freshness, — breathing air which had 
not been breathed in advance by the hundred thou- 
sand pairs of lungs which have common and invisible 
property in the atmosphere of this great city. My 
breath had never belonged to anybody but me. It 
came fresh from the wilderness of ocean. ... It was 
exhilarating to see the vessels, how they bounded over 
the waves, while a sheet of foam broke out around 
them. I found a good deal of enjoyment, too, in the 
busy scene around me; for several vessels were dis- 
gorging themselves (what an unseemly figure is this, 
— " disgorge," quotha, as if the vessel were sick) on 
the wharf, and everybody seemed to be working with 
might and main. It pleased me to think that I also 
had a part to act in the material and tangible busi- 
ness of this life, and that a portion of ail this industry 
could not have gone on without my presence. Never- 
theless, I must not pride myself too much on my activ- 
ity and utilitarianism. I shall, doubtless, soon bewail 
myself at being compelled to earn my bread by taking 
some little share in the toils of mortal men. . . , 

Articulate words are a harsh clamor and dissonance. 
When man arrives at his highest perfection, he will 
again be dumb ! for I suppose he was dumb at the 
Creation, and must go round an entire circle in order 
to return to that blessed state. 

Brook Farm, Oak Hill, April 13th, 1841. — . . . 
Here I am in a polar Paradise ! I know not how 
to interpret this aspect of nature, — whether it be of 
good or evil omen to our enterprise. But I reflect 
that the Plymouth pilgrims arrived in the midst of 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 227 

storm, and stepped ashore upon mountain snow-drifts ; 
and, nevertheless, they prospered, and became a great 
people, — and doubtless it will be the same with us. 
I laud my stars, however, that you will not have your 
first impressions of (perhaps) our future home from 
such a day as this. . . . Through faith, I persist in 
believing that Spring and Summer will come in their 
due season ; but the unregenerated man shivers with- 
in me, and suggests a doubt whether I may not have 
wandered within the precincts of the Arctic Circle, 
and chosen my heritage among everlasting snows. . . . 
Provide yourself with a good stock of furs, and, if you 
can obtain the skin of a polar bear, you will find it a 
very suitable summer dress for this region. . . . 

I have not yet taken my first lesson in agriculture, 
except that I went to see our cows foddered, yesterday 
afternoon. We have eight of our own ; and the num- 
ber is now increased by a transcendental heifer belong- 
ing to Miss Margaret Fuller. She is very fractious, I 
believe, and apt to kick over the milk-pail. ... I in- 
tend to convert myself into a milkmaid this evening, 
but I pray Heaven that Mr. Ripley may be moved to 
assign me the kindliest cow in the herd, otherwise I 
shall perform my duty with fear and trembling. 

I like my brethren in affliction very well ; and, 
could you see us sitting round our table at meal-times, 
before the great kitchen fire, you would call it a cheer- 
ful sight. Mrs. B is a most comfortable woman 

to behold. She looks as if her ample person were 
stuffed full of tenderness, — ■ indeed, as if she were all 
ane great, kind heart. 



April 14:th, 10 A. M. — . . . I did not milk the 



228 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

cows last night, because Mr. Ripley was afraid to 
trust them to my hands, or me to their horns, I know- 
not which. But this morning I have done wonders. 
Before breakfast, I went out to the barn and began to 
chop hay for the cattle, and with such " righteous ve- 
hemence," as Mr. Ripley says, did I labor, that in the 
space of ten minutes I broke the machine. Then I 
brought wood and replenished the fires ; and finally 
went down to breakfast, and ate up a huge mound of 
buckwheat cakes. After breakfast, Mr. Ripley put 
a four-pronged instrument into my hands, which he 
gave me to understand was called a pitchfork ; and 
he and Mr. Farley being armed with similar weapons, 
we all three commenced a gallant attack upon a heap 
of manure. This office being concluded, and I having 
purified myself, I sit down to finish this letter. . . . 

Miss Fuller's cow hooks the other cows, and has 
made herself ruler of the herd, and behaves in a very 
tyrannical manner. ... I shall make an excellent 
husbandman, — I feel the original Adam reviving 
within me. 

April 16th. — ... Since I last wrote, there has 
been an addition to our community of four gentlemen 
in sables, who promise to be among our most useful 
and respectable members. They arrived yesterday 
about noon. Mr. Ripley had proposed to them to join 
us, no longer ago than that very morning. I had 
some conversation with them in the afternoon, and 
was glad to hear them express much satisfaction with 
their new abode and all the arrangements. They do 
not appear to be very communicative, however, — or 
perhaps it may be merely an external reserve, like my 
own, to shield their delicacy. Several of their promi- 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 229 

nent characteristics, as well as their black attire, lead 
me to believe that they are members of the clerical 
profession ; but I have not yet ascertained from their 
own lips what has been the nature of their past lives, 
I trust to have much pleasure in their society, and, 
sooner or later, that we shall all of us derive great 
strength from our intercourse with them. I cannot 
too highly applaud the readiness with which these four 
gentlemen in black have thrown aside all the fopper= 
ies and flummeries which have their origin in a false 
state of society. When I last saw them, they looked 
as heroically regardless of the stains and soils inci- 
dent to our profession as I did when I emerged from 
the gold-mine. . . . 

I have milked a cow !!!... The herd has re- 
belled against the usurpation of Miss Fuller's heifer ; 
and, whenever they are turned out of the barn, she is 
compelled to take refuge under our protection. So 
much did she impede my labors by keeping close to 
me, that I found it necessary to give her two or three 
gentle pats with a shovel ; but still she preferred to 
trust herself to my tender mercies, rather than ven- 
ture among the horns of the herd. She is not an ami- 
able cow; but she has a very intelligent face, and 
seems to be of a reflective cast of character. I doubt 
not that she will soon perceive the expediency of be- 
ing on good terms with the rest of the sisterhood. 

I have not yet been twenty yards from our house 
and barn ; but I begin to perceive that this is a beau- 
tiful place. The scenery is of a mild and placid char- 
acter, with nothing bold in its aspect ; but I think its 
beauties will grow upon us, and make us love it the 
more, the longer we live here. There is a brook, so 
a ear the house that we shall be able to hear its ripple 



230 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

in the summer evenings, . . . but, for agricultural 
purposes, it has been made to flow in a straight and 
rectangular fashion, which does it infinite damage as a 
picturesque object. . . . 

It was a moment or two before I could think whom 
you meant by Mr. Dismal View. Why, he is one of 
the best of the brotherhood, so far as cheerfulness 
goes ; for if he do not laugh himself, he makes the 
rest of us laugh continually. He is the quaintest and 
queerest personage you ever saw, — full of dry jokes, 
the humor of which is so incorporated with the strange 
twistifications of his physiognomy, that his sayings 
ought to be written down, accompanied with illustra- 
tions by Cruikshank. Then he keeps quoting innu- 
merable scraps of Latin, and makes classical allusions, 
while we are turning over the gold - mine ; and the 
contrast between the nature of his employment and 
the character of his thoughts is irresistibly ludicrous. 

I have written this epistle in the parlor, while 
Farmer Ripley, and Farmer Farley, and Farmer Dis* 
mal View were talking about their agricultural con- 
cerns. So you will not wonder if it is not a classical 
piece of composition, either in point of thought or ex- 
pression. 

Mr. Ripley has bought four black pigs. 

April 22d — ... What an abominable hand do I 
scribble ! but I have been chopping wood, and turning 
a grindstone all the forenoon ; and such occupations 
are likely to disturb the equilibrium of the muscles 
and sinews. It is an endless surprise to me how much 
work there is to be done in the world ; but, thank 
God, I am able to do my share of it, — and my ability 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 231 

increases daily. What a great, broad-shouldered, ele- 
phantine personage I shall become by and by ! 

I milked two cows this morning, and would send 
you some of the milk, only that it is mingled with that 
which was drawn forth by Mr. Dismal View and the 
rest of the brethren. 

April 28th. — . . . I was caught by a cold during 
my visit to Boston. It has not affected my whole 
frame, but took entire possessiou of my head, as being 
the weakest and most vulnerable part. Never did 
anybody sneeze with such vehemence and frequency ; 
and my poor brain has been in a thick fog ; or, rather, 
it seemed as if my head were stuffed with coarse wooL 
. . . Sometimes I wanted to wrench it off, and give it 
a great kick, like a football. 

This annoyance has made me endure the bad weather 
with even less than ordinary patience ; and my faith 
was so far exhausted that, when they told me yester- 
day that the sun was setting clear, I would not even 
turn my eyes towards the west. But this morning I 
am made all over anew, and have no greater remnant 
of my cold than will serve as an excuse for doing no 
work to-day. 

The family has been dismal and dolorous through- 
out the storm. The night before last, William Allen 
was stung by a wasp on the eyelid ; whereupon the 
whole side of his face swelled to an enormous magni- 
tude, so that, at the breakfast-table, one half of him 
looked like a blind giant (the eye being closed), and 
the other half had such a sorrowful and ludicrous as- 
pect that I was constrained to laugh out of sheer pity* 



232 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

The same day, a colony of wasps was discovered in my 
chamber, where they had remained throughout the 
winter, and were now just bestirring themselves, doubt- 
less with the intention of stinging me from head to 
foot. „ . . A similar discovery was made in Mr. Far- 
ley's room. In short, we seem to have taken up our 
abode in a wasps' nest. Thus you see a rural life is 
not one of unbroken quiet and serenity. 

If the middle of the day prove warm and pleasant, 
I promise myself to take a walk. ... I have taken 
one walk with Mr. Farley ; and I could not have be- 
lieved that there was such seclusion at so short a dis- 
tance from a great city. Many spots seem hardly 
to have been visited for ages, — not since John Eliot 
preached to the Indians here. If we were to travel a 
thousand miles, we could not escape the world more 
completely than we can here. 

I read no newspapers, and hardly remember who is 
President, and feel as if I had no more concern with 
what other people trouble themselves about than if I 
dwelt in another planet. 

May 1st. — ... Every day of my life makes me 
feel more and more how seldom a fact is accurately 
stated; how, almost invariably, when a story has 
passed through the mind of a third person, it be- 
comes, so far as regards the impression that it makes 
in further repetitions, little better than a falsehood, 
and this, too, though the narrator be the most truth- 
seeking person in existence. How marvellous the 
tendency is ! . . . Is truth a fantasy which we are to 
pursue forever and never grasp ? 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 233 

My cold has almost entirely departed. Were it a 
sunny day, I should consider myself quite fit for labors 
out of doors ; but as the ground is so damp, and the 
atmosphere so chill, and the sky so sullen, I intend to 
keep myself on the sick-list this one day longer, more 
especially as I wish to read Carlyle on Heroes. 

There has been but one flower found in this vicinity 3 
■ — and that was an anemone, a poor, pale, shivering lit- 
tle flower, that had crept under a stone-wall for shelter. 
Mr. Farley found it, while taking a walk with me. 

. . . This is May-Day ! Alas, what a difference be- 
tween the ideal and the real ! 

May Ath. — . . . My cold no longer troubles me, 
and all the morning I have been at work under the 
clear, blue sky, on a hill-side. Sometimes it almost 
seemed as if I were at work in the sky itself, though 
the material in which I wrought was the ore from 
our gold-mine. Nevertheless, there is nothing so un- 
seemly and disagreeable in this sort of toil as you 
could think. It denies the hands, indeed, but not 
the soul. This gold ore is a pure and wholesome sub- 
stance, else our mother Nature would not devour it so 
readily, and derive so much nourishment from it, and 
return such a rich abundance of good grain and roots 
in requital of it. 

The farm is growing very beautiful now, — not that 
we yet see anything of the peas and potatoes which 
we have planted ; but the grass blushes green on the 
slopes and hollows. I wrote that word " blush " al- 
most unconsciously; so we will let it go as an inspired 
utterance. When X go forth afield, ... I look be- 
neath the stone-walls, where the verdure is richest, in 



234 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

hopes that a little company of violets, or some solitary 
bud, prophetic of the summer, may be there. . • « But 
not a wild-flower have I yet found. One of the boys 
gathered some yellow cowslips last Sunday ; but I am 
well content not to have found them, for they are not 
precisely what I should like to send to you, though 
they deserve honor and praise, because they come to 
us when no others will. We have our parlor here 
dressed in evergreen as at Christmas. That beautiful 
little flower- vase . . . stands on Mr. Ripley's study- 
table, at which I am now writing. It contains some 
daffodils and some willow-blossoms. I brought it here 
rather than keep it in my chamber, because I never 
sit there, and it gives me many pleasant emotions to 
look round and be surprised - — for it is often a sur- 
prise, though I well know that it is there — by some- 
thing connected with the idea [of a friend], 

I do not believe that I should be patient here if I 
were not engaged in a righteous and heaven-blessed 
way of life. When I was in the Custom House and 
then at Salem I was not half so patient. . . . 

We had some tableaux last evening, the principal 
characters being sustained by Mr. Farley and Miss 
Ellen Slade. They went off very well. . . . 

I fear it is time for me — sod-compelling as I am — - 
to take the field again. 

May lltJi. — . . . This morning I arose at milking, 
time in good trim for work ; and we have been em- 
ployed partly in an Augean labor of clearing out a 
wood-shed, and partly in carting loads of oak. This 
afternoon I hope to have something to do in the field, 
for these jobs about the house are not at all to my 
taste. 



I841/J AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 235 

June 1st. — « . . I have been too busy to write a 
long letter by this opportunity, for I think this pres- 
ent life of mine gives me an antipathy to pen and ink, 
even more than my Custom House experience did. 
... In the midst of toil, or after a hard day's work 
in the gold-mine, my soul obstinately refuses to be 
poured out on paper. That abominable gold - mine ! 
Thank God, we anticipate getting rid of its treas- 
ures in the course of two or three days ! Of all hate- 
ful places that is the worst, and I shall never com- 
fort myself for having spent so many days of blessed 
sunshine there. It is my opinion that a man's soul 
may be buried and perish under a dung-heap, or in a 
furrow of the field, just as well as under a pile of 
money. 

Mr, George Bradford will probably be here to-day, 
so that there will be no danger of my being under the 
necessity of laboring more than I like hereafter. Mean- 
time my health is perfect, and my spirits buoyant, 
even in the gold-mine. 

August 12th. — ... I am very well, and not at 
all weary, for yesterday's rain gave us a holiday ; and, 
moreover, the labors of the farm are not so pressing 
as they have been. And, joyful thought ! in a little 
more than a fortnight I shall be free from my bond- 
age, — ... free to enjoy Nature, — free to think and 
feel! . . . Even my Custom House experience was 
not such a thraldom and weariness; my mind and 
heart were free. Oh, labor is the curse of the world, 
and nobody can meddle with ifc without becoming pro- 
portionably brutified! Is it a praiseworthy matter 
that I have spent five golden months in providing 
food for cows and horses ? It is not so. 



236 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841 . 

August 18th. — I am very well, only somewhat tired 
with walking half a dozen miles immediately after 
breakfast, and raking hay ever since. We shall quite 
finish haying this week, and then there will be no 
more very hard or constant labor during the one other 
week that I shall remain a slave. 

August 22d. — ... I had an indispensable engage- 
ment in the bean-field, whither, indeed, I was glad to 
betake myself, in order to escape a parting scene with 

. He was quite out of his wits the night before, 

and I sat up with him till long past midnight. The 
farm is pleasanter now that he is gone ; for his unap- 
peasable wretchedness threw a gloom over everything. 
Since I last wrote, we have done haying, and the re- 
mainder of my bondage will probably be light. It 
will be a long time, however, before I shall know how 
to make a good use of leisure, either as regards enjoy- 
ment or literary occupation. . . . 

It is extremely doubtful whether Mr. Eipley will 
succeed in locating his community on this farm. He 

can bring Mr. E to no terms, and the more they 

talk about the matter, the further they appear to be 
from a settlement. We must form other plans for 
ourselves ; for I can see few or no signs that Provi- 
dence purposes to give us a home here. I am weary, 
weary, thrice weary, of waiting so many ages. What- 
ever may be my gifts, I have not hitherto shown a sin- 
gle one that may avail to gather gold. I confess that 
I have strong hopes of good from this arrangement 

with M- ; but when I look at the scanty avails of 

my past literary efforts, I do not feel authorized to 
expect much from the future. Well, we shall see c 
Other persons have bought large estates and built 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 237 

splendid mansions with such little books as I mean to 
write ; so that perhaps it is not unreasonable to hope 
that mine may enable me to build a little cottage, or, 
at least, to buy or hire one. But I am becoming 
more and more convinced that we must not lean upon 
this community. Whatever is to be done must be 
done by my own undivided strength. I shall not re- 
main here through the winter, unless with an absolute 
certainty that there will be a house ready for us in the 
spring. Otherwise, I shall return to Boston, — still, 
however, considering myself an associate of the com- 
munity, so that we may take advantage of any more 
favorable aspect of affairs. How much depends on 
these little books ! Methinks if anything could draw 
out my whole strength, it would be the motives that 
now press upon me. Yet, after all, I must keep these 
considerations out of my mind, because an external 
pressure always disturbs instead of assisting me. 

Salem, September 2>d. — . . . But really I should 
judge it to be twenty years since I left Brook Farm ; 
and I take this to be one proof that my life there was 
an unnatural and unsuitable, and therefore an unreal, 
one. It already looks like a dream behind me. The 
real Me was never an associate of the community; 
there has been a spectral Appearance there, sounding 
the horn at daybreak, and milking the cows, and hoe- 
ing potatoes, and raking hay, toiling in the sun, and 
doing me the honor to assume my name. But this 
spectre was not myself. Nevertheless, it is somewhat 
remarkable that my hands have, during the past sum- 
mer, grown very brown and rough, insomuch that 
many people persist in believing that I, after all, was 
the aforesaid spectral honnsounder, cow-milker, pota* 



238 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

to-hoer, and hay-raker. But such people do not know 
a reality from a shadow. Enough of nonsense. 1 
know not exactly how soon I shall return to the farm. 
Perhaps not sooner than a fortnight from to-morrow. 

Salem, September 14th. — ... Master Cheever is 
a very good subject for a sketch, especially if he be 
portrayed in the very act of executing judgment on an 
evil-doer. The little urchin may be laid across his 
knee, and his arms and legs, and whole person indeed, 
should be flying all abroad, in an agony of nervous 
excitement and corporeal smart. The Master, on 
the other hand, must be calm, rigid, without anger or 
pity, the very personification of that immitigable law 
whereby suffering follows sin. Meantime the lion's 
head should have a sort of sly twist on one side of its 
mouth, and a wink of one eye, in order to give the im- 
pression that, after all, the crime and the punishment 
are neither of them the most serious things in the 
world. I could draw the sketch myself, if I had but 
the use of 's magic fingers. 

Then the Acadians will do very well for the second 
sketch. They might be represented as just landing on 
the wharf; or as presenting themselves before Gov- 
ernor Shirley, seated in the great chair. Another sub- 
ject might be old Cotton Mather, venerable in a three- 
cornered hat and other antique attire, walking the 
streets of Boston, and lifting up his hands to bless the 
people, while they all revile him. An old dame should 
be seen, flinging water, or emptying some vials of 
medicine, on his head from the latticed window of an 
old-fashioned house; and all around must be tokens 
of pestilence and mourning, — as a coffin borne along, 
— a woman or children weeping on a doorstep. Can 
the tolling of the Old South bell be painted ? 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 239 

If not this, then the military council, holden at Bos- 
ton by the Earl of Loudon and other captains and 
governors, might be taken, — his lordship in the great 
chair, an old-fashioned, military figure, with a star on 
his breast. Some of Louis XV.'s commanders will 
give the costume. On the table, and scattered about 
the room, must be symbols of warfare, — swords, pis- 
tols, plumed hats, a drum, trumpet, and rolled-up ban* 
ner in one heap. It were not amiss to introduce the 
armed figure of an Indian chief, as taking part in the 
council, — or standing apart from the English, erect 
and stern. 

Now for Liberty Tree. There is an engraving of 
that famous vegetable in Snow's History of Boston. 
If represented, I see not what scene can be beneath it, 
save poor Mr. Oliver, taking the oath. He must have 
on a bag-wig, ruffled sleeves, embroidered coat, and all 
such ornaments, because he is the representative of 
aristocracy and an artificial system. The people may 
be as rough and wild as the fancy can make them ; 
nevertheless, there must be one or two grave, puritan- 
ical figures in the midst. Such an one might sit in 
the great chair, and be an emblem of that stern, con- 
siderate spirit which brought about the Revolution. 
But this would be a hard subject. 

But what a dolt am I to obtrude my counsel. ... 

September 16th, — .... I do not very well recol- 
lect Monsieur du Miroir, but, as to Mrs. Bullfrog, I 
give her up to the severest reprehension. The story 
was written as a mere experiment in that style ; it did 
not come from any depth within me, — neither my 
heart nor mind had anything to do with it. I recol- 
lect that the Man of Adamant seemed a fine idea to 



240 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

me when I looked at it prophetically ; but I failed in 
giving shape and substance to the vision which I saw. 
I don't think it can be very good. . . . 

I cannot believe all these stories about , be- 
cause such a rascal never could be sustained and coun= 
tenanced by respectable men. I take him to be neither 
better nor worse than the average of his tribe. How- 
ever, I intend to have all my copyrights taken out in 
my own name ; and, if he cheat me once, I will have 
nothing more to do with him, but will straightway 
be cheated by some other publisher, - — that being, of 
course, the only alternative. 

Governor Shirley's young French wife might be the 
subject of one of the cuts. She should sit in the great 
chair, — perhaps with a dressing-glass before her, — 
and arrayed in all manner of fantastic finery, and with 
an outre French air, while the old Governor is leaning 
fondly over her, and a puritanic councillor or two are 
manifesting their disgust in the background. A negro 
footman and a French waiting-maid might be in at- 
tendance. 

In Liberty Tree might be a vignette, representing 
the chair in a very shattered, battered, and forlorn 
condition, after it had been ejected from Hutchinson's 
house. This would serve to impress the reader with 
the woful vicissitudes of sublunary things. * . . 

Did you ever behold such a vile scribble as I write 
since I became a farmer? My chirography always 
was abominable, but now it is outrageous. 

Brook Farm, September 22d, 1841. — . . . Here 
I am again, slowly adapting myself to the life of this 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 241 

queer community, whence I seem to have been absent 
half a lifetime, — so utterly have I grown apart from 
the spirit and manners of the place. ... 1 was most 
kindly received ; and the fields and woods looked very 
pleasant in the bright sunshine of the day before yes- 
terday. I have a friendlier disposition towards the 
farm, now that I am no longer obliged to toil in its 
stubborn furrows. Yesterday and to-day, however, 
the weather has been intolerable, — cold, chill, sullen, 
so that it is impossible to be on kindly terms with 
Mother Nature. . . . 

I doubt whether I shall succeed in writing another 
volume of Grandfather's Library while I remain here. 
I have not the sense of perfect seclusion which has al- 
ways been essential to my power of producing any- 
thing. It is true, nobody intrudes into my room : 
but still I cannot be quiet. Nothing here is settled ; 
everything is but beginning to arrange itself, and 
though I would seem to have little to do with aught 
beside my own thoughts, still I cannot but partake of 
the ferment around me. My mind will not be ab- 
stracted. I must observe, and think, and feel, and 
content myself with catching glimpses of things which 
may be wrought out hereafter. Perhaps it will be 
quite as well that I find myself unable to set seriously 
about literary occupation for the present. It will be 
good to have a longer interval between my labor of 
the body and that of the mind. I shall work to the 
better purpose after the beginning of November. 
Meantime I shall see these people and their enter- 
prise under a new point of view, and perhaps be able 
to determine whether we have any call to cast in our 
lot among them. 

VOL. IX. 10 



242 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

I do wish the weather would put off this sulky 
mood. Had it not been for the warmth and bright- 
ness of Monday, when I arrived here, I should have 
supposed that all sunshine had left Brook Farm for- 
ever. I have no disposition to take long walks in 
such a state of the sky ; nor have I any buoyancy of 
spirit. I am a very dull person just at this time. 

September 25th. — ... One thing is certain. I 
cannot and will not spend the winter here. The time 
would be absolutely thrown away so far as regards any 
literary labor to be performed. . . . 

The intrusion of an outward necessity into labors 
of the imagination and intellect is, to me, very pain- 
ful. ... 

I had rather a pleasant walk to a distant meadow a 
day or two ago, and we found white and purple grapes 
in great abundance, ripe, and gushing with rich, pure 
juice when the hand pressed the clusters. Did you 
know what treasures of wild grapes there are in this 
land? If we dwell here, we will make our own 
wine. . . . 

September 21th. — ... Now, as to the affair with 
-, I fully confide in your opinion that he intends 



to make an unequal bargain with poor, simple, inno- 
cent me, — never having doubted this myself. But 
how is he to accomplish it ? < I am not, nor shall be, 
the least in his power, whereas he is, to a certain ex- 
tent, in mine. He might announce his projected Li* 
brary, with me for the editor, in all the newspapers in 
the universe ; but still I could not be bound to become 
the editor, unless by my own act ; nor should I have 
the slightest scruple in refusing to be so, at the last 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 243 

moment, if he persisted in treating me with injustice* 
Then, as for his printing " Grandfather's Chair," I have 
the copyright in my own hands, and could and would 
prevent the sale, or make him account to me for the 
profits, in case of need. Meantime he is making ar- 
rangements for publishing the Library, contracting 
with other booksellers, and with printers and engrav- 
ers, and, with every step, making it more difficult for 
himself to draw back. I, on the other hand, do noth- 
ing which I should not do if the affair with were 

at an end ; for, if I write a book, it will be just as 
available for some other publisher as for him. In- 
stead of getting me into his power by this delay, he 
has trusted to my ignorance and simplicity, and has 
put himself in my power. 

He is not insensible of this. At our last interview, 
he himself introduced the subject of the bargain, and 
appeared desirous to close it. But I was not prepared, 
— among other reasons, because I do not yet see what 
materials I shall have for the republications in the Li- 
brary; the works that he has shown me being ill 
adapted for that purpose ; and I wish first to see some 
French and German books which he has sent for to 
New York. And, before concluding the bargain, I 
have promised George Hillard to consult him, and let 
him do the business. Is not this consummate dis- 
cretion ? and am I not perfectly safe ? . . . I look at 
the matter with perfect composure, and see all round 
my own position, and know that it is impregnable. 

I was elected to two high offices last night, — viz. 
to be a trustee of the Brook Farm estate, and Chair- 
man of the Committee of Finance ! . . . From the 
nature of my office, I shall have the chief direction 



244 AMERICAN NOTE-BOORS. [1841. 

of all the money affairs of the community, the making 
of bargains, the supervision of receipts and expendi- 
tures, etc., etc., etc. . . . 

My accession to these august offices does not at all 
decide the question of my remaining here permanently. 
I told Mr. Ripley that I could not spend the winter 
at the farm, and that it was quite uncertain whether I 
returned in the spring. . . . 

Take no part, I beseech you, in these magnetic mira- 
cles. I am unwilling that a power should be exercised 
on you of which we know neither the origin nor conse- 
quence, and the phenomena of which seem rather cal- 
culated to bewilder us than to teach us any truths 
about the present or future state of being. . . . Sup- 
posing that the power arises from the transfusion of 
one spirit into another, it seems to me that the sacred- 
ness of an individual is violated by it ; there would be 
an intruder into the holy of holies. ... I have no 
faith whatever that people are raised to the seventh 
heaven, or to any heaven at all, or that they gain any 
insight into the mysteries of life beyond death, by 
means of this strange science. Without distrusting 
that the phenomena have really occurred, I think that 
they are to be accounted for as the result of a mate- 
rial and physical, not of a spiritual, influence. Opium 
has produced many a brighter vision of heaven, I 
fancy, and just as susceptible of proof, as these. They 
are dreams. . . . And what delusion can be more lam- 
entable and mischievous, than to mistake the physical 
and material for the spiritual? What so miserable 
as to lose the soul's true, though hidden, knowledge 
and consciousness of heaven in the mist of an earth- 
born vision ? If we would know what heaven is be- 
fore we come thither, let us retire into the depths of 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 245 

our own spirits, and we shall find it there among holy 
thoughts and feelings ; but let us not degrade high 
heaven and its inhabitants into any such symbols and 

forms as Miss L describes ; do not let an earthly 

effluence from Mrs. P 's corporeal system bewil- 
der and perhaps contaminate, something spiritual and 
sacred. I should as soon think of seeking revelations 
of the future state in the rottenness of the grave, — > 
where so many do seek it. . . . 

The view which I take of this matter is caused by 
no want of faith in mysteries ; but from a deep rever- 
ence of the soul, and of the mysteries which it knows 
within itself, but never transmits to the earthly eye 
and ear. Keep the imagination sane, — that is one 
of the truest conditions of communion with heaven. 

Brook Farm, September 26th. — A walk this morn- 
ing along the Needham road. A clear, breezy morning, 
after nearly a week of cloudy and showery weather. 
The grass is much more fresh and vivid than it was 
last month, and trees still retain much of their ver- 
dure, though here and there is a shrub or a bough 
arrayed in scarlet and gold. Along the road, in the 
midst of a beaten track, I saw mushrooms or toad- 
stools which had sprung up probably during the night. 

The houses in this vicinity are, many of them, quite 
antique, with long, sloping roofs, commencing at a 
few feet from the ground, and ending in a lofty peak. 
Some of them have huge old elms overshadowing the 
yard. One may see the family sleigh near the door, 
it having stood there all through the summer sun- 
shine, and perhaps with weeds sprouting through the 
crevices of its bottom, the growth of the months since 
snow departed. Old barns, patched and supported 



246 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

by timbers leaning against the sides, and stained with 
the excrement of past ages. 

In the forenoon I walked along the edge of the 
meadow towards Cow Island. Large trees, almost a 
wood, principally of pine with the green pasture-glades 
intermixed, and cattle feeding. They cease grazing 
when an intruder appears, and look at him with long 
and wary observation, then bend their heads to the 
pasture again. Where the firm ground of the pasture 
ceases, the meadow begins, — loose, spongy, yielding 
to the tread, sometimes permitting the foot to sink 
into black mud, or perhaps over ankles in water. Cat- 
tle-paths, somewhat firmer than the general surface, 
traverse the dense shrubbery which has overgrown the 
meadow. This shrubbery consists of small birch, el- 
ders, maples, and other trees, with here and there 
white-pines of larger growth. The whole is tangled 
and wild and thick-set, so that it is necessary to part 
the nestling stems and branches, and go crashing 
through. There are creeping plants of various sorts 
which clamber up the trees ; and some of them have 
changed color in the slight frosts which already have 
befallen these low grounds, so that one sees a spiral 
wreath of scarlet leaves twining up to the top of a 
green tree, intermingling its bright hues with their 
verdure, as if all were of one piece. Sometimes, 
instead of scarlet, the spiral wreath is of a golden 
yellow. 

Within the verge of the meadow, mostly near the 
firm shore of pasture ground, I found several grape- 
vines, hung with an abundance of large purple grapes. 
The vines had caught hold of maples and alders, and 
climbed to the summit, curling round about and in- 
terwreathing their twisted folds in so intimate a man* 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 247 

ner that it was not easy to tell the parasite from the 
supporting tree or shrub. Sometimes the same vine 
had enveloped several shrubs, and caused a strange, 
tangled confusion, converting all these poor plants to 
the purpose of its own support, and hindering their 
growing to their own benefit and convenience. The 
broad vine-leaves, some of them yellow or yellowish- 
tinged, were seen apparently growing on the same 
stems with the silver-mapled leaves, and those of the 
other shrubs, thus married against their will by the 
conjugal twine ; and the purple clusters of grapes 
hung down from above and in the midst, so that one 
might " gather grapes," if not " of thorns," yet of as 
alien bushes. 

One vine had ascended almost to the tip of a large 
white-pine, spreading its leaves and hanging its pur- 
ple clusters among all its boughs, — still climbing and 
clambering, as if it would not be content till it had 
crowned the very summit with a wreath of its own 
foliage and bunches of grapes. I mounted high into 
the tree, and ate the fruit there, while the vine 
wreathed still higher into the depths above my head. 
The grapes were sour, being not yet fully ripe. Some 
of them, however, were sweet and pleasant. 

September 21th. — A ride to Brighton yesterday 
morning, it being the day of the weekly cattle-fair, 
William Allen and myself went in a wagon, carrying 
a calf to be sold at the fair. The calf had not had 
his breakfast, as his mother had preceded him to 
Brighton, and he kept expressing his hunger and dis- 
comfort by loud, sonorous baas, especially when we 
passed any cattle in the fields or in the road. The 
cows, grazing within hearing, expressed great interest, 



248 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

and some of them came galloping to the roadside to 
behold the calf. Little children, also, on their way 
to school, stopped to laugh and point at poor little 
Bossie. He was a prettily behaved urchin, and kept 
thrusting his hairy muzzle between William and my- 
self, apparently wishing to be stroked and patted. It 
was an ugly thought that his confidence in human 
nature, and nature in general, was to be so ill re- 
warded as by cutting his throat, and selling him in 
quarters. This, I suppose, has been his fate before 
now! 

It was a beautiful morning, clear as crystal, with 
an invigorating, but not disagreeable coolness. The 
general aspect of the country was as green as sum- 
mer, — greener indeed than mid or latter summer, — 
and there were occasional interminglings of the brill- 
iant hues of autumn, which made the scenery more 
beautiful, both visibly and in sentiment. We saw no 
absolutely mean nor poor -looking abodes along the 
road. There were warm and comfortable farm-houses, 
ancient, with the porch, the sloping roof, the antique 
peak, the clustered chimney, of old times ; and mod- 
ern cottages, smart and tasteful ; and villas, with ter- 
races before them, and dense shade, and wooden urns 
on pillars, and other such tokens of gentility. Pleas- 
ant groves of oak and walnut, also, there were, some- 
times stretching along valleys, sometimes ascending a 
hill and clothing it all round, so as to make it a great 
clump of verdure. Frequently we passed people with 
cows, oxen, sheep, or pigs for Brighton Fair. 

On arriving at Brighton, we found the village 
thronged with people, horses, and vehicles. Probably 
there is no place in New England where the character 
of an agricultural population may be so well studied. 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 249 

Almost all the farmers within a reasonable distance 
make it a point, I suppose, to attend Brighton Fair 
pretty frequently, if not on business, yet as amateurs,, 
Then there are all the cattle-people and butchers who 
supply the Boston market, and dealers from far and 
near ; and every man who has a cow or a yoke of oxen 5 
whether to sell or buy, goes to Brighton on Monday., 
There were a thousand or two of cattle in the extensive 
pens belonging to the tavern-keeper, besides many that 
were standing about. One could hardly stir a step 
without running upon the horns of one dilemma or an- 
other, in the shape of ox, cow, bull, or ram. The yeo- 
men appeared to be more in their element than I have 
ever seen them anywhere else, except, indeed, at labor, 
— more so than at musterings and such gatherings of 
amusement. And yet this was a sort of festal day, as 
well as a day of business. Most of the people were of 
a bulky make, with much bone and muscle, and some 
good store of fat, as if they had lived on flesh - diet ; 
with mottled faces, too, hard and red, like those of 
persons who adhered to the old fashion of spirit-drink- 
ing. Great, round - paunched country squires were 
there too, sitting under the porch of the tavern, or 
waddling about, whip in hand, discussing the points of 
the cattle. There were also gentlemen-farmers, neatly, 
trimly, and fashionably dressed, in handsome surtouts, 
and trousers strapped under their boots. Yeomen, too, 
in their black or blue Sunday suits, cut by country 
tailors, and awkwardly worn. Others (like myself) 
had on the blue stuff frocks which they wear in the 
fields, the most comfortable garments that ever were 
invented. Country loafers were among the throng, — 
men who looked wistfully at the liquors in the bar, 
and waited for some friend to invite them to drink, •->- 



250 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

poor, shabby, out - at - elbowed devils. Also, dandies 
from the city, corseted and buckramed, who had come 
to see the humors of Brighton Fair. All these, and 
other varieties of mankind, either thronged the spacious 
bar-room of the hotel, drinking, smoking, talking, bar< 
gaining, or walked about among the cattle-pens, look- 
ing with knowing eyes at the horned people. The own- 
ers of the cattle stood near at hand, waiting for offers. 
There was something indescribable in their aspect, that 
showed them to be the owners, though they mixed 
among the crowd. The cattle, brought from a hundred 
separate farms, or rather a thousand, seemed to agree 
very well together, not quarrelling in the least. They 
almost all had a history, no doubt, if they could but 
have told it. The cows had each given her milk to 
support families, — had roamed the pastures, and come 
home to the barn-yard, had been looked upon as a 
sort of member of the domestic circle, and was known 
by a name, as Brindle or Cherry. The oxen, with 
their necks bent by the heavy yoke, had toiled in the 
plough-field and in haying-time for many years, and 
knew their master's stall as well as the master himself 
knew his own table. Even the young steers and the lit- 
tle calves had something of domestic sacredness about 
them ; for children had watched their growth, and 
petted them, and played with them. And here they 
all were, old and young, gathered from their thousand 
homes to Brighton Fair ; whence the great chance was 
that they would go to the slaughter-house, and thence 
be transmitted, in surloins, joints, and such pieces, to 
the tables of the Boston folk. 

William Allen had come to buy four little pigs to 
take the places of four who have now grown large at 
our farm, and are to be fatted and killed within a few 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 251 

weeks. There were several hundreds, in pens appro- 
priated to their use, grunting discordantly, and appar- 
ently in no very good humor with their companions or 
the world at large. Most or many of these pigs had 
been imported from the State of New York. The 
drovers set out with a large number, and peddle them 
along the road till they arrive at Brighton with the 
remainder. William selected four, and bought them 
at five cents per pound. These poor little porkers 
were forthwith seized by the tails, their legs tied, and 
they thrown into our wagon, where they kept up a con- 
tinual grunt and squeal till we got home. Two of 
them were yellowish, or light gold - color, the other 
two were black and white speckled ; and all four of 
very piggish aspect and deportment. One of them 
snapped at William's finger most spitefully and bit it 
to the bone. 

All the scene of the Fair was very characteristic 
and peculiar, — cheerful and lively, too, in the bright, 
warm sun. I must see it again ; for it ought to be 
studied. 

September 28^A. — A picnic party in the woods, 
yesterday, in honor of little Frank Dana's birthday, 
he being six years old. I strolled out, after dinner, 
with Mr. Bradford, and in a lonesome glade we met 
the apparition of an Indian chief, dressed in appropri- 
ate costume of blanket, feathers, and paint, and armed 
with a musket. Almost at the same time, a young 
gypsy fortune-teller came from among the trees, and 
proposed to tell my fortune. While she was doing 
this, the goddess Diana let fly an arrow, and hit me 
smartly in the hand. The fortune-teller and goddess 
were in fine contrast, Diana being a blonde, fair, quiet, 



252 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

with a moderate composure ; and the gypsy (O. G.) 
a bright, vivacious, dark -haired, rich - complexioned 
damsel, — both of them very pretty, at least pretty 
enough to make fifteen years enchanting. Accompa- 
nied by these denizens of the wild wood, we went on- 
ward, and came to a company of fantastic figures, ar- 
ranged in a ring for a dance or a game. There was a 
Swiss girl, an Indian squaw, a negro of the Jim Crow 
order, one or two foresters, and several people in 
Christian attire, besides children of all ages. Then 
followed childish games, in which the grown people 
took part with mirth enough, — while I, whose nature 
it is to be a mere spectator both of sport and serious 
business, lay under the trees and looked on. Mean- 
while, Mr. Emerson and Miss Fuller, who arrived an 
hour or two before, came forth into the little glade 
where we were assembled. Here followed much talk. 
The ceremonies of the day concluded with a cold col- 
lation of cakes and fruit. All was pleasant enough, 
— an excellent piece of work, — " would 't were done ! " 
It has left a fantastic impression on my memory, this 
intermingling of wild and fabulous characters with real 
and homely ones, in the secluded nook of the woods. 
I remember them, with the sunlight breaking through 
overshadowing branches, and they appearing and dis- 
appearing confusedly, — perhaps starting out of the 
earth ; as if the e very-day laws of nature were sus- 
pended for this particular occasion. There were the 
children, too, laughing and sporting about, as if they 
were at home among such strange shapes, — and anon 
bursting into loud uproar of lamentation, when the 
rude gambols of the merry archers chanced to over- 
turn them. And apart, with a shrewd, Yankee obser- 
vation of the scene, stands our friend Orange, a thick- 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 253 

set, sturdy figure, enjoying the fun well enough, yet, 
rather laughing with a perception of its nonsensical- 
ness than at all entering into the spirit of the thing. 

This morning I have been helping to gather apples» 
The principal farm labors at this time are ploughing 
for winter rye, and breaking up the greensward for 
next year's crop of potatoes, gathering squashes, and 
not much else, except such year-round employments as 
milking. The crop of rye, to be sure, is in process of 
being threshed, at odd intervals. 

I ought to have mentioned among the diverse and 
incongruous growths of the picnic party our two 
Spanish boys from Manilla, — Lucas, with his heavy 
features and almost mulatto complexion ; and Jose", 
slighter, with rather a feminine face, — not a gay, 
girlish one, but grave, reserved, eying you sometimes 
with an earnest but secret expression, and causing you 
to question what sort of person he is. 

Friday, October 1st. — I have been looking at our 
four swine, — not of the last lot, but those in process 
of fattening. They lie among the clean rye straw in 
the sty, nestling close together ; for they seem to be 
beasts sensitive to the cold, and this is a clear, bright, 
crystal morning, with a cool north west- wind. So there 
lie these four black swine, as deep among the straw as 
they can burrow, the very symbols of slothful ease and 
sensuous comfort. They seem to be actually oppressed 
and overburdened with comfort. They are quick to 
notice any one's approach, and utter a low grunt there- 
upon, — not drawing a breath for that particular pur- 
pose, but grunting with their ordinary breath, — at 
the same time turning an observant, though dull and 
sluggish eye upon the visitor. They seem to be in« 



254 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

volved and buried in their own corporeal substance, 
and to look dimly forth at the outer world. They 
breathe not easily, and yet not with difficulty nor dis- 
comfort ; for the very unreadiness and oppression with 
which their breath comes appears to make them sensi- 
ble of the deep sensual satisfaction which they feeL 
Swill, the remnant of their last meal, remains in the 
trough, denoting that their food is more abundant than 
even a hog can demand. Anon they fall asleep, draw- 
ing short and heavy breaths, which heave their huge 
sides up and down; but at the slightest noise they 
sluggishly unclose their eyes, and give another gentle 
grunt. They also grunt among themselves, without 
any external cause ; but merely to express their swin- 
ish sympathy. I suppose it is the knowledge that 
these four grunters are doomed to die within two or 
three weeks that gives them a sort of awfulness in my 
conception. It makes me contrast their present gross 
substance of fleshly life with the nothingness speedily 
to come. Meantime the four newly bought pigs are 
running about the cow-yard, lean, active, shrewd, inves- 
tigating everything, as their nature is. When I throw 
an apple among them, they scramble with one another 
for the prize, and the successful one scampers away to 
eat it at leisure. They thrust their snouts into the 
mud, and pick a grain of corn out of the rubbish. 
Nothing within their sphere do they leave unexamined, 
grunting all the time with infinite variety of expres- 
sion. Their language is the most copious of that of 
any quadruped, and, indeed, there is something deeply 
and indefinably interesting in the swinish race. They 
appear the more a mystery the longer one gazes at 
them. It seems as if there were an important mean- 
ing to them, if one could but find it out. One inter- 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 255 

esting trait in them is their perfect independence of 
character. They care not for man, and will not adapt 
themselves to his notions, as other beasts do ; but are 
true to themselves, and act out their hoggish nature. 

October 1th. - — Since Saturday last (it being now 
Thursday), I have been in Boston and Salem, and 
there has been a violent storm and rain during the 
whole time. This morning shone as bright as if it 
meant to make up for all the dismalness of the past 
days. Our brook, which in the summer was no longer 
a running stream, but stood in pools along its pebbly 
course, is now full from one grassy verge to the other, 
and hurries along with a murmuring rush. It will 
continue to swell, I suppose, and in the winter and 
spring it will flood all the broad meadows through 
which it flows. 

I have taken a long walk this forenoon along the 
Needham road, and across the bridge, thence pursuing 
a cross-road through the woods, parallel with the river, 
which I crossed again at Dedham. Most of the road 
lay through a growth of young oaks principally. They 
still retain their verdure, though, looking closely in 
among them, one perceives the broken sunshine falling 
on a few sere or bright-hued tufts of shrubbery. In 
low, marshy spots, on the verge of the meadows or 
along the river-side, there is a much more marked au- 
tumnal change. Whole ranges of bushes are there 
painted with many variegated hues, not of the bright- 
est tint, but of a sober cheerfulness. I suppose this is 
owing more to the late rains than to the frost ; for a 
heavy rain changes the foliage somewhat at this sea- 
son. The first marked frost was seen last Saturday 
morning. Soon after sunrise it lay, white as snow, 



256 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

over all the grass, and on the tops of the fences, and 
in the yard, on the heap of firewood. On Sunday, I 
think, there was a fall of snow, which, however, did 
not lie on the ground a moment. 

There is no season when such pleasant and sunny 
spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an 
effect on the feelings, as now in October. The sun- 
shine is peculiarly genial ; and in sheltered places, as 
on the side of a bank, or of a barn or house, one be- 
comes acquainted and friendly with the sunshine. It 
seems to be of a kindly and homely nature. And the 
green grass, strewn with a few withered leaves, looks 
the more green and beautiful for them. In summer 
or spring, Nature is farther from one's sympathies. 

October 8th. — Another gloomy day, lowering with 
portents of rain close at hand. I have walked up into 
the pastures this morning, and looked about me a lit- 
tle. The woods present a very diversified appearance 
just now, with perhaps more varieties of tint than they 
are destined to wear at a somewhat later period. 
There are some strong yellow hues, and some deep 
red ; there are innumerable shades of green, some few 
having the depth of summer ; others, partially changed 
towards yellow, look freshly verdant with the delicate 
tinge of early summer or of May. Then there is the 
solemn and dark green of the pines. The effect is, 
that every tree in the wood and every bush among the 
shrubbery has a separate existence, since, confusedly 
intermingled, each wears its peculiar color, instead of 
being lost in the universal emerald of summer. And 
yet there is a oneness of effect likewise, when we 
choose to look at a whole sweep of woodland instead 
of analyzing its component trees. Scattered over the 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 257 

pasture, which the late rains have kept tolerably green, 
there are spots or islands of dusky red, — a deep, sub- 
stantial hue, very well fit to be close to the ground, — 
while the yellow, and light, fantastic shades of green 
soar upward to the sky. These red spots are the blue- 
berry and whortleberry bushes. The sweet -fern is 
changed mostly to russet, but still retains its wild and 
delightful fragrance when pressed in the hand. Wild 
China asters are scattered about, but beginning to 
wither. A little while ago, mushrooms or toadstools 
were very numerous along the wood-paths and by the 
roadsides, especially after rain. Some were of spot- 
less white, some yellow, and some scarlet. They are 
always mysteries and objects of interest to me, spring- 
ing as they do so suddenly from no root or seed, and 
growing one wonders why. I think, too, that some 
varieties are pretty objects, little fairy tables, centre- 
tables, standing on one leg. But their growth appears 
to be checked now, and they are of a brown tint and 
decayed. 

The farm business to-day is to dig potatoes. I 
worked a little at it. The process is to grasp all the 
stems of a hill and pull them up. A great many of 
the potatoes are thus pulled, clinging to the stems and 
to one another in curious shapes, — long red things, 
and little round ones, imbedded in the earth which 
clings to the roots. These being plucked off, the rest 
of the potatoes are dug out of the hill with a hoe, the 
tops being flung into a heap for the cow-yard. On 
my way home, I paused to inspect the squash-field. 
Some of the squashes lay in heaps as they were gath- 
ered, presenting much variety of shape and hue, — as 
golden yellow, like great lumps of gold, dark green, 
striped and variegated; and some were round, and 

VOL. IX. 17 



258 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [184L 

some lay curling their long necks, nestling, as it were, 
and seeming as if they had life. 

In my walk yesterday forenoon I passed an old 
house which seemed to be quite deserted. It was a 
two-story, wooden house, dark and weather-beaten. 
The front windows, some of them, were shattered and 
open, and others were boarded up. Trees and shrub- 
bery were growing neglected, so as quite to block up 
the lower part. There was an aged barn near at 
hand, so ruinous that it had been necessary to prop it 
up. There were two old carts, both of which had lost 
a wheel. Everything was in keeping. At first I sup- 
posed that there would be no inhabitants in such a 
dilapidated place ; but, passing on, I looked back, and 
saw a decrepit and infirm old man at the angle of the 
house, its fit occupant. The grass, however, was very 
green and beautiful around this dwelling, and, the sun- 
shine falling brightly on it, the whole effect was cheer- 
ful and pleasant. It seemed as if the world was so 
glad that this desolate old place, where there was never 
to be any more hope and happiness, could not at all 
lessen the general effect of joy. 

I found a small turtle by the roadside, where he had 
crept to warm himself in the genial sunshine. He had 
a sable back, and underneath his shell was yellow, and 
at the edges bright scarlet. His head, tail, and claws 
were striped yellow, black, and red. He withdrew 
himself as far as he possibly could into his shell, and 
absolutely refused to peep out, even when I put him 
into the water. Finally, I threw him into a deep pool 
and left him. These mailed gentlemen, from the size 
of a foot or more down to an inch, were very numer- 
ous in the spring ; and now the smaller kind appear 
again. 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 259 

Saturday, October 9th. — Still dismal weather. 
Our household, being composed in great measure of 
children and young people, is generally a cheerful one 
enough, even in gloomy weather. For a week past we 
have been especially gladdened with a little seamstress 
from Boston, about seventeen years old ; but of such a 
petite figure, that, at first view, one would take her to 
be hardly in her teens. She is very vivacious and 
smart, laughing and singing and talking all the time, 
— talking sensibly ; but still, taking the view of mat- 
ters that a city girl naturally would. If she were 
larger than she is, and of less pleasing aspect, I think 
she might be intolerable ; but being so small, and with 
a fair skin, and as healthy as a wild-flower, she is 
really very agreeable ; and to look at her face is like 
being shone upon by a ray of the sun. She never 
walks, but bounds and dances along, and this motion, 
in her diminutive person, does not give the idea of vio- 
lence. It is like a bird, hopping from twig to twig, 
and chirping merrily all the time. Sometimes she is 
rather vulgar, but even that works well enough into 
her character, and accords with it. On continued ob- 
servation, one discovers that she is not a little girl, 
but really a little woman, with all the prerogatives and 
liabilities of a woman. This gives a new aspect to 
her, while the girlish impression still remains, and is 
strangely combined with the sense that this frolicsome 
maiden has the material for the sober bearing of a 
wife. She romps with the boys, runs races with them 
in the yard, and up and down the stairs, and is heard 
scolding laughingly at their rough play. She asks 
William Allen to place her "on top of that horse," 
whereupon he puts his large brown hands about her 
waist, and, swinging her to and fro, lifts her on horse- 



260 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

back. William threatens to rivet two horseshoes 
round her neck, for having clambered, with the other 
girls and boys, upon a load of hay, whereby the said 
load lost its balance and slid off the cart. She strings 
the seed-berries of roses together, making a scarlet 
necklace of them, which she fastens about her throato 
She gathers flowers of everlasting to wear in her bon« 
net, arranging them with the skill of a dress-maker. 
In the evening, she sits . singing by the hour, with the 
musical part of the establishment, often breaking into 
laughter, whereto she is incited by the tricks of the 
boys. The last thing one hears of her, she is tripping 
up stairs to bed, talking lightsomely or warbling ; and 
one meets her in the morning, the very image of bright 
morn itself, smiling briskly at you, so that one takes 
her for a promise of cheerfulness through the day. Be 
it said, with all the rest, that there is a perfect maiden 
modesty in her deportment. She has just gone away, 
and the last I saw of her was her vivacious face peep- 
ing through the curtain of the cariole, and nodding 
a gay farewell to the family, who were shouting their 
adieus at the door. With her other merits, she is an 
excellent daughter, and supports her mother by the la- 
bor of her hands. It would be difficult to conceive 
beforehand how much can be added to the enjoyment 
of a household by mere sunniness of temper and live- 
liness of disposition ; for her intellect is very ordinary, 
and she never says anything worth hearing, or even 
laughing at, in itself. But she herself is an expres- 
sion well worth studying. 

Brook Farm, October 9th. — A walk this afternoon 
to Cow Island. The clouds had broken away towards 
noon, and let forth a few sunbeams, and more and 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 261 

more blue sky ventured to appear, till at last it was re- 
ally warm and sunny, — indeed, rather too warm in the 
sheltered hollows, though it is delightful to be too warm 
now, after so much stormy dullness. Oh the beauty of 
grassy slopes, and the hollow ways of paths winding 
between hills, and the intervals between the road and 
wood-lots, where Summer lingers and sits down, strew- 
ing dandelions of gold, and blue asters, as her parting 
gifts and memorials ! I went to a grapevine, which I 
have already visited several times, and found some 
clusters of grapes still remaining, and now perfectly 
ripe. Coming within view of the river, I saw several 
wild ducks under the shadow of the opposite shore, 
which was high, and covered with a grove of pines. I 
should not have discovered the ducks had they not 
risen and skimmed the surface of the glassy stream, 
breaking its dark water with a bright streak, and, 
sweeping round, gradually rose high enough to fly 
away. I likewise started a partridge just within the 
verge of the woods, and in another place a large squir- 
rel ran across the wood-path from one shelter of trees 
to the other. Small birds, in flocks, were flitting 
about the fields, seeking and finding I know not what 
sort of food. There were little fish, also, darting in 
shoals through the pools and depths of the brooks, 
which are now replenished to their brims, and rush 
towards the river with a swift, amber-colored current. 
Cow Island is not an island, — at least, at this sea- 
son, — though, I believe, in the time of freshets, the 
marshy Charles floods the meadows all round about it, 
and extends across its communication with the main- 
land. The path to it is a very secluded one, thread- 
ing a wood of pines, and just wide enough to admit 
the loads of meadow hay which are drawn from the 



262 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

splashy shore of the river. The island has a growth 
of stately pines, with tall and ponderous stems, stand- 
ing at distance enough to admit the eye to travel far 
among them ; and, as there is no underbrush, the 
effect is somewhat like looking among the pillars of a 
church. 

I returned home by the high-road. On my right, 
separated from the road by a level field, perhaps fifty 
yards across, was a range of young forest-trees, dressed 
in their garb of autumnal glory. The sun shone di- 
rectly upon them ; and sunlight is like the breath of 
life to the pomp of autumn. In its absence, one doubts 
whether there be any truth in what poets have told 
about the splendor of an American autumn ; but when 
this charm is added, one feels that the effect is beyond 
description. As I beheld it to-day, there was nothing 
dazzling ; it was gentle and mild, though brilliant and 
diversified, and had a most quiet and pensive influ- 
ence. And yet there were some trees that seemed 
really made of sunshine, and others were of a sunny 
red, and the whole picture was painted with but 
little relief of darksome hues, — only a few ever- 
greens. But there was nothing inharmonious ; and, 
on closer examination, it appeared that all the tints 
had a relationship among themselves. And this, I 
suppose, is the reason that, while nature seems to scat- 
ter them so carelessly, they still never shock the be- 
holder by their contrasts, nor disturb, but only soothe. 
The brilliant scarlet and the brilliant yellow are dif- 
ferent hues of the maple-leaves, and the first changes 
into the last. I saw one maple-tree, its centre yellow 
as gold, set in a framework of red. The native pop- 
lars have different shades of green, verging towards 
yellow, and are very cheerful in the sunshine. Most 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 263 

of the oak-leaves have still the deep verdure of sum- 
mer ; but where a change has taken place, it is into a 
russet-red, warm, but sober. These colors, infinitely 
varied by the progress which different trees have made 
in their decay, constitute almost the whole glory of 
autumnal woods ; but it is impossible to conceive how 
much is done with such scanty materials. In my 
whole walk I saw only one man, and he was at a dis- 
tance, in the obscurity of the trees. He had a horse 
and a wagon, and was getting a load of dry brush- 
wood. 

Sunday, October lOtJi. — I visited my grapevine 
this afternoon, and ate the last of its clusters. This 
vine climbs around a young maple-tree, which has now 
assumed the yellow leaf. The leaves of the vine are 
more decayed than those of the maple. Thence to 
Cow Island, a solemn and thoughtful walk. Returned 
by another path, of the width of a wagon, passing 
through a grove of hard wood, the lightsome hues of 
which make the walk more cheerful than among the 
pines. The roots of oaks emerged from the soil, and 
contorted themselves across the path. The sunlight, 
also, broke across in spots, and otherwheres the shadow 
was deep; but still there was intermingling enough 
of bright hues to keep off the gloom from the whole 
path. 

Brooks and pools have a peculiar aspect at this sea- 
son. One knows that the water must be cold, and one 
shivers a little at the sight of it ; and yet the grass 
about the pool may be of the deepest green, and the 
sun may be shining into it. The withered leaves 
which overhanging trees shed upon its surface contrib- 
ute much to the effect. 



264 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

Insects have mostly vanished in the fields and 
woods. I hear locusts yet, singing in the sunny hours, 
and crickets have not yet finished their song. Once 
in a while I see a caterpillar, — this afternoon, for 
instance, a red, hairy one, with black head and tail. 
They do not appear to be active, and it makes one 
rather melancholy to look at them. 

Tuesday, October 12th. — The cawing of the crow 
resounds among the woods. A sentinel is aware of 
your approach a great way off, and gives the alarm to 
his comrades loudly and eagerly, — Caw, caw, caw I 
Immediately the whole conclave replies, and you be- 
hold them rising above the trees, flapping darkly, and 
winging their way to deeper solitudes. Sometimes, 
however, they remain till you come near enough to 
discern their sable gravity of aspect, each occupying a 
separate bough, or perhaps the blasted tip-top of a 
pine. As you approach, one after another, with loud 
cawing, flaps his wings and throws himself upon the 
air. 

There is hardly a more striking feature in the land- 
scape nowadays than the red patches of blueberry and 
whortleberry bushes, as seen on a sloping hill-side, like 
islands among the grass, with trees growing in them ; 
or crowning the summit of a bare, brown hill with 
their somewhat russet liveliness ; or circling round the 
base of an earth-imbedded rock. At a distance, this 
hue, clothing spots and patches of the earth, looks 
more like a picture than anything else, — yet such a 
picture as I never saw painted. 

The oaks are now beginning to look sere, and their 
leaves have withered borders. It is pleasant to notice 
the wide circle of greener grass beneath the circumfer- 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 265 

ence of an overshadowing oak. Passing an orchard, 
one hears an uneasy rustling in the trees, and not as 
if they were struggling with the wind. Scattered 
about are barrels to contain the gathered apples ; and 
perhaps a great heap of golden or scarlet apples is col- 
lected in one place. 

Wednesday -, October 13^A. — A good view, from an 
upland swell of our pasture, across the valley of the 
river Charles. There is the meadow, as level as a 
floor, and carpeted with green, perhaps two miles 
from the rising ground on this side of the river to 
that on the opposite side. The stream winds through 
the midst of the flat space, without any banks at all ; 
for it fills its bed almost to the brim, and bathes the 
meadow grass on either side. A tuft of shrubbery, at 
broken intervals, is scattered along its border; and 
thus it meanders sluggishly along, without other life 
than what it gains from gleaming in the sun. Now, 
into the broad, smooth meadow, as into a lake, capes 
and headlands put themselves forth, and shores of 
firm woodland border it, covered with variegated foli- 
age, making the contrast so much the stronger of their 
height and rough outline with the even spread of the 
plain. And beyond, and far away, rises a long, grad- 
ual swell of country, covered with an apparently dense 
growth of foliage for miles, till the horizon terminates 
it ; and here and there is a house, or perhaps two, 
among the contiguity of trees. Everywhere the trees 
wear their autumnal dress, so that the whole land- 
scape is red, russet, orange, and yellow, blending in 
the distance into a rich tint of brown-orange, or nearly 
that, — except the green expanse so definitely hemmed 
in by the higher ground. 



266 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

I took a long walk this morning, going first nearly 
to Newton, thence nearly to Brighton, thence to Ja- 
maica Plain, and thence home. It was a fine morn- 
ing, with a northwest-wind ; cool when facing the 
wind, but warm and most genially pleasant in shel- 
tered spots ; and warm enough everywhere while I 
was in motion. I traversed most of the by-ways 
which offered themselves to me ; and, passing through 
one in which there was a double line of grass between 
the wheel-tracks and that of the horses' feet, I came 
to where had once stood a farmhouse, which appeared 
to have been recently torn down. Most of the old 
timber and boards had been carted away ; a pile of it, 
however, remained. The cellar of the house was un- 
covered, and beside it stood the base and middle 
height of the chimney. The oven, in which house- 
hold bread had been baked for daily food, and pud- 
dings and cake and jolly pumpkin-pies for festivals, 
opened its mouth, being deprived of its iron door. 
The fireplace was close at hand. All round the site 
of the house was a pleasant, sunny, green space, with 
old fruit-trees in pretty fair condition, though aged. 
There was a barn, also aged, but in decent repair; 
and a ruinous shed, on the corner of which was nailed 
a boy's windmill, where it had probably been turning 
and clattering for years together, till now it was black 
with time and weather-stain. It was broken, but still 
it went round whenever the wind stirred. The spot 
was entirely secluded, there being no other house with- 
in a mile or two. 

No language can give an idea of the beauty and 
glory of the trees, just at this moment. It would be 
easy, by a process of word-daubing, to set down a 
confused group of gorgeous colors, like a bunch of 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 267 

tangled skeins of bright silk ; but there is nothing of 
the reality in the glare which would thus be produced. 
And yet the splendor both of individual clusters and 
of whole scenes is unsurpassable. The oaks are now 
far advanced in their change of hue ; and, in certain 
positions relatively to the sun, they light up and gleam 
with a most magnificent deep gold, varying according 
as portions of the foliage are in shadow or sunlight. 
On the sides which receive the direct rays, the effect 
is altogether rich ; and in other points of view it is 
equally beautiful, if less brilliant. This color of the 
oak is more superb than the lighter yellow of the ma- 
ples and walnuts. The whole landscape is now cov- 
ered with this indescribable pomp ; it is discerned on 
the uplands afar off; and Blue Hill in Milton, at the 
distance of several miles, actually glistens with rich, 
dark light, — no, not glistens, nor gleams, — but per- 
haps to say glows subduedly will be a truer expression 
for it. 

Met few people this morning ; a grown girl, in com- 
pany with a little boy, gathering barberries in a se- 
cluded lane ; a portly, autumnal gentleman, wrapped 
in a great-coat, who asked the way to Mr. Joseph Grod- 
dard's ; and a fish-cart from the city, the driver of 
which sounded his horn along the lonesome way. 

Monday, October 18^. — There has been a succes- 
sion of days which were cold and bright in the fore- 
noon, and gray, sullen, and chill towards night. The 
woods have now taken a soberer tint than they wore 
at my last date. Many of the shrubs which looked 
brightest a little while ago are now wholly bare of 
leaves. The oaks have generally a russet-brown shade, 
although some of them are still green, as are likewise 



268 



AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 



[1841. 



other scattered trees in the forests. The bright yel- 
low and the rich scarlet are no more to be seen. 
Scarcely any of them will now bear a close examina- 
tion ; for this shows them to be rugged, wilted, and of 
faded, frost-bitten hue ; but at a distance, and in the 
mass, and enlivened by the sun, they have still some- 
what of the varied splendor which distinguished them a 
week ago. It is wonderful what a difference the sun- 
shine makes ; it is like varnish, bringing out the hid- 
den veins in a piece of rich wood. In the cold, gray 
atmosphere, such as that of most of our afternoons 
now, the landscape lies dark, — brown, and in a much 
deeper shadow than if it were clothed in green. But, 
perchance, a gleam of sun falls on a certain spot of 
distant shrubbery or woodland, and we see it brighten 
with many hues, standing forth prominently from the 
dimness around it. The sunlight gradually spreads, 
and the whole sombre scene is changed to a motley 
picture, — the sun bringing out many shades of color, 
and converting its gloom to an almost laughing cheer- 
fulness. At such times I almost doubt whether the 
foliage has lost any of its brilliancy. But the clouds 
intercept the sun again, and lo ! old Autumn appears, 
clad in his cloak of russet-brown. 

Beautiful now, while the general landscape lies in 
shadow, looks the summit of a distant hill (say a mile 
off), with the sunshine brightening the trees that cover 
it. It is noticeable that the outlines of hills, and the 
whole bulk of them at the distance of several miles, 
become stronger, denser, and more substantial in this 
autumn atmosphere and in these autumnal tints than 
in summer. Then they looked blue, misty, and dim. 
Now they show their great humpbacks more plainly, 
as if they had drawn nearer to us. 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 269 

A waste of shrubbery and small trees, such as over- 
runs the borders of the meadows for miles together, 
looks much more rugged, wild, and savage in its pres- 
ent brown color than when clad in green. 

I passed through a very pleasant wood-path yester- 
day, quite shut in and sheltered by trees that had not 
thrown off their yellow robes. The sun shone strongly 
in among them, and quite kindled them ; so that the 
path was brighter for their shade than if it had been 
quite exposed to the sun. 

In the village graveyard, which lies contiguous to 
the street, I saw a man digging a grave, and one in- 
habitant after another turned aside from his way to 
look into the grave and talk with the digger. I heard 
him laugh, with the traditionary mirthf ulness of men 
of that occupation. 

In the hollow of the woods, yesterday afternoon, I 
lay a long while watching a squirrel, who was capering 
about among the trees over my head (oaks and white- 
pines, so close together that their branches intermin- 
gled). The squirrel seemed not to approve of my 
presence, for he frequently uttered a sharp, quick, an- 
gry noise, like that of a scissors - grinder's wheel. 
Sometimes I could see him sitting on an impending 
bough, with his tail over his back, looking down pry- 
ingly upon me. It seems to be a natural posture with 
him, to sit on his hind legs, holding up his fore paws. 
Anon, with a peculiarly quick start, he would scram- 
ble along the branch, and be lost to sight in another 
part of the tree, whence his shrill chatter would again 
be heard. Then I would see him rapidly descending 
the trunk, and running along the ground ; and a mo- 
ment afterwards, casting my eye upward, I beheld him 
flitting like a bird among the high limbs at the sum- 



270 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1841. 

mit, directly above me. Afterwards, lie apparently 
became accustomed to my society, and set about some 
business of his own. He came down to the ground, 
took up a piece of a decayed bough (a heavy burden 
for such a small personage), and, with this in his 
mouth, again climbed up and passed from the branches 
of one tree to those of another, and thus onward and 
onward till he went out of sight. Shortly afterwards 
he returned for another burden, and this he repeated 
several times. I suppose he was building a nest, — at 
least, I know not what else could have been his object. 
Never was there such an active, cheerful, choleric, con- 
tinually-in-motion fellow as this little red squirrel, talk- 
ing to himself, chattering at me, and as sociable in his 
own person as if he had half a dozen companions, in- 
stead of being alone in the lonesome wood. Indeed, 
he flitted about so quickly, and showed himself in dif- 
ferent places so suddenly, that I was in some doubt 
whether there were not two or three of them. 

I must mention again the very beautiful effect pro- 
duced by the masses of berry-bushes, lying like scarlet 
islands in the midst of withered pasture-ground, or 
crowning the tops of barren hills. Their hue, at a dis- 
tance, is lustrous scarlet, although it does not look 
nearly as bright and gorgeous when examined close at 
hand. But at a proper distance it is a beautiful fringe 
on Autumn's petticoat. 

Friday, October 22d. — A continued succession of 
unpleasant, Novembery days, and autumn has made 
rapid progress in the work of decay. It is now some- 
what of a rare good fortune to find a verdant, grassy 
spot, on some slope, or in a dell ; and even such sel- 
dom-seen oases are bestrewn with dried brown leaves, 



1841.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 271 

— which, however, methinks, make the short, fresh 
grass look greener around them. Dry leaves are now 
plentiful everywhere, save where there are none but 
pine-trees. They rustle beneath the tread, and there 
is nothing more autumnal than that sound. Never- 
theless, in a walk this afternoon, I have seen two 
oaks which retained almost the greenness of summer. 
They grew close to the huge Pulpit Rock, so that por- 
tions of their trunks appeared to grasp the rough sur- 
face ; and they were rooted beneath it, and, ascending 
high into the air, overshadowed the gray crag with 
verdure. Other oaks, here and there, have a few 
green leaves or boughs among their rustling and rug- 
ged shade. 

Yet, dreary as the woods are in a bleak, sullen day, 
there is a very peculiar sense of warmth and a sort of 
richness of effect in the slope of a bank and in shel- 
tered spots, where bright sunshine falls, and the brown 
oaken foliage is gladdened by it. There is then a 
feeling of comfort, and consequently of heart-warmth, 
which cannot be experienced in summer. 

I walked this afternoon along a pleasant wood-path, 
gently winding, so that but little of it could be seen 
at a time, and going up and down small mounds, now 
plunging into a denser shadow, and now emerging 
from it. Part of the way it was strewn with the dusky, 
yellow leaves of white-pines, — the cast-off garments 
of last year ; part of the way with green grass, close- 
cropped, and very fresh for the season. Sometimes 
the trees met across it ; sometimes it was bordered on 
one side by an old rail - fence of moss - grown cedar, 
with bushes sprouting beneath it, and thrusting their 
branches through it ; sometimes by a stone-wall of un- 
known antiquity, older than the wood it closed in. A 



272 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

stone-wall, when shrubbery has grown around it, and 
thrust its roots beneath it, becomes a very pleasant 
and meditative object. It does not belong too evi- 
dently to man, having been built so long ago. It 
seems a part of nature. 

Yesterday I found two mushrooms in the woods, 
probably of the preceding night's growth. Also I saw 
a mosquito, frost-pinched, and so wretched that I felt 
avenged for all the injuries which his tribe inflicted 
upon me last summer, and so did not molest this lone 
survivor. 

Walnuts in their green rinds are falling from the 
trees, and so are chestnut-burrs. 

I found a maple-leaf to-day, yellow all over, except 
its extremest point, which was bright scarlet. It 
looked as if a drop of blood were hanging from it. 
The first change of the maple-leaf is to scarlet ; the 
next, to yellow. Then it withers, wilts, and drops off, 
as most of them have already done. 

October 21th. — Fringed gentians, — I found the 
last, probably, that will be seen this year, growing on 
the margin of the brook. 

1842. — Some man of powerful character to com- 
mand a person, morally subjected to him, to perform 
some act. The commanding person suddenly to die ; 
and, for all the rest of his life, the subjected one con- 
tinues to perform that act. 

" Solomon dies during the building of the temple, 
but his body remains leaning on a staff, and overlook- 
ing the workmen, as if it were alive." 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 273 

A tri-weekly paper, to be called the Tertian Ague. 

Subject for a picture, — Satan's reappearance in 
Pandemonium, shining out from a mist with " shape 
star-bright." 

Five points of Theology, — Five Points at New 
York. 

It seems a greater pity that an accomplished worker 
with the hand should perish prematurely, than a per- 
son of great intellect ; because intellectual arts may be 
cultivated in the next world, but not physical ones. 

To trace out the influence of a frightful and dis- 
graceful crime in debasing and destroying a character 
naturally high and noble, the guilty person being alone 
conscious of the crime. 

A man, virtuous in his general conduct, but com- 
mitting habitually some monstrous crime, — as mur- 
der, — and doing this without the sense of guilt, but 
with a peaceful conscience, — habit, probably, recon- 
ciling him to it ; but something (for instance, discov- 
ery) occurs to make him sensible of his enormity. 
His horror then. 

The strangeness, if they could be foreseen and fore- 
thought, of events which do not seem so strange after 
they have happened. As, for instance, to muse over a 
child's cradle, and foresee all the persons in different 
parts of the world with whom he would have rela« 

tions. 

Vol. ix. 18 



274 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

A man to swallow a small snake, — and it to be a 
symbol of a cherished sin. 

Questions as to unsettled points of history, and mys- 
teries of nature, to be asked of a mesmerized person. 

Gordier, a young man of the Island of Jersey, was 
paying his addresses to a young lady of Guernsey. 
He visited the latter island, intending to be married. 
He disappeared on his way from the beach to his mis- 
tress's residence, and was afterwards found dead in a 
cavity of the rocks. After a time, Galliard, a mer- 
chant of Guernsey, paid his addresses to the young 
lady ; but she always felt a strong, unaccountable an- 
tipathy to him. He presented her with a beautiful 
trinket. The mother of Gordier, chancing to see this 
trinket, recognized it as having been bought by her 
dead son as a present for his mistress. She expired 
on learning this ; and Galliard, being suspected of the 
murder, committed suicide. 

The cure of Montreux in Switzerland, ninety -six 
years old, still vigorous in mind and body, and able to 
preach. He had a twin-brother, also a preacher, and 
the exact likeness of himself. Sometimes strangers 
have beheld a white-haired, venerable, clerical person- 
age, nearly a century old; and, upon riding a few 
miles farther, have been astonished to meet again this 
white-haired, venerable, century-old personage. 

When the body of Lord Mohun (killed in a duel) 
was carried home, bleeding, to his house, Lady Mohun 
was very angry because it was " flung upon the best 
bed." 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 275 

A prophecy, somewhat in the style of Swift's about 
Partridge, but embracing various events and person- 
ages. 

An incident that befell Dr. Harris, while a Junior 
at college. Being in great want of money to buy shirts 
or other necessaries, and not knowing how to obtain it, 
he set out on a walk from Cambridge to Boston. On 
the way he cut a stick, and, after walking a short dis- 
tance, perceived that something had become attached 
to the end of it. It proved to be a gold ring, with the 
motto, " God speed thee, friend." 

Brobdingnag lay on the northwest coast of the 
American continent. 

A gush of violets along a wood-path. 

People with false hair and other artifices may be 
supposed to deceive Death himself, so that he does not 
know when their hour is come. 

Bees are sometimes drowned (or suffocated) in the 
honey which they collect. So some writers are lost in 
their collected learning. 

Advice of Lady Pepperell's father on her marriage, 

— never to work one moment after Saturday sunset, 

— never to lay down her knitting except in the middle 
of the needle, — always to rise with the sun, — to pass 
an hour daily with the housekeeper, — to visit every 
room daily from garret to cellar, — to attend herself 
to the brewing of beer and the baking of bread, — and 
to instruct every member of the family in their relig* 
ious duties. 



276 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

Service of plate, presented by the city of London to 
Sir William Pepperell, together with a table of solid 
silver. The table very narrow, but long ; the articles 
of plate numerous, but of small dimensions, — the 
tureen not holding more than three pints. At the 
close of the Revolution, when the Pepperell and Spar- 
hawk property was confiscated, this plate was sent 
to the grandson of Sir William, in London. It was 
so valuable, that Sheriff Moulton, of old York, with 
six well-armed men, accompanied it to Boston. Pep- 
perell's only daughter married Colonel Sparhawk, a 
fine gentleman of the day. Andrew Pepperell, the 
son, was rejected by a young lady (afterwards the 
mother of Mrs. General Knox), to whom he was on 
the point of marriage, as being addicted to low com- 
pany and low pleasures. The lover, two days after- 
wards, in the streets of Portsmouth, was sun-struck, 
and fell down dead. Sir William had built an ele- 
gant house for his son and his intended wife ; but af- 
ter the death of the former he never entered it. He 
lost his cheerfulness and social qualities, and gave up 
intercourse with people, except on business. Very 
anxious to secure his property to his descendants by 
the provisions of his will, which was drawn up by 
Judge Sewall, then a young lawyer. Yet the Judge 
lived to see two of Sir William's grandchildren so re- 
duced that they were to have been numbered among 
the town's poor, and were only rescued from this fate 
by private charity. 

The arms and crest of the Pepperell family were 
displayed over the door of every room in Sir William's 
house. In Colonel Sparhawk' s house there were forty 
portraits, most of them in full length. The house 
built for Sir William's son was occupied as barracks 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 211 

during the Revolution, and much injured. A few 
years after the peace, it was blown down by a violent 
tempest, and finally no vestige of it was left, but there 
remained only a summer-house and the family tomb. 

At Sir William's death, his mansion was hung with 
black, while the body lay in state for a week. All 
the Sparhawk portraits were covered with black crape, 
and the family pew was draped with black. Two oxen 
were roasted, and liquid hospitality dispensed in pro- 
portion. 

Old lady's dress seventy or eighty years ago. 
Brown brocade gown, with a nice lawn handkerchief 
and apron, — short sleeves, with a little ruffle, just be- 
low the elbow, — black mittens, — a lawn cap, with 
rich lace border, — a black velvet hood on the back of 
the head, tied with black ribbon under the chin. She 
sat in an old-fashioned easy-chair, in a small, low par- 
lor, — the wainscot painted entirely black, and the 
walls hung with a dark velvet paper. 

A table, stationary ever since the house was built, 
extending the whole length of a room. One end was 
raised two steps higher than the rest. The Lady Ur- 
sula, an early Colonial heroine, was wont to dine at 
the upper end, while her servants sat below. This was 
in the kitchen. An old garden and summer-house, 
and roses, currant-bushes, and tulips, which Lady Ur- 
sula had brought from Grondale Abbey, in Old Eng- 
land. Although a hundred and fifty years before, 
and though their roots were propagated all over the 
country, they were still flourishing in the original gar- 
den. This Lady Ursula was the daughter of Lord 
Thomas Cutts, of Grondale Abbey, in England. She 
had been in love with an officer named Fowler, who 



278 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

was supposed to have been slain in battle. After the 
death of her father and mother, Lady Ursula came to 
Kittery, bringing twenty men - servants and several 
women. After a time, a letter arrived from her lover, 
who was not killed, but merely a prisoner to the 
French. He announced his purpose to come to Amer- 
ica, where he would arrive in October. A few days 
after the letter came, she went out in a low carriage 
to visit her work-people, and was blessing the food for 
their luncheon, when she fell dead, struck by an In- 
dian tomahawk, as did all the rest save one. They 
were buried where the massacre took place, and a 
stone was erected, which (possibly) still remains. 
The lady's family had a grant from Sir Ferdinando 
Gorges of the territory thereabout, and her brother 
had likewise come over and settled in the vicinity. I 
believe very little of this story. Long afterwards, at 
about the commencement of the Revolution, a descend- 
ant of Fowler came from England, and applied to the 
Judge of Probate to search the records for a will, sup- 
posed to have been made by Lady Ursula in favor of 
her lover as soon as she heard of his existence. In 
the mean time the estate had been sold to Colonel 
Whipple. No will could be found. (Lady Ursula 
was old Mrs. Cutts, widow of President Cutts.) 

The mode of living of Lady Ursula's brother in 
Kittery. A drawbridge to the house, which was raised 
every evening, and lowered in the morning, for the 
laborers and the family to pass out. They kept thirty 
cows, a hundred sheep, and several horses. The house 
spacious, — one room large enough to contain forty 
or fifty guests. Two silver branches for candles, — 
the walls ornamented with paintings and needlework. 
The floors were daily rubbed with wax, and shone 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 279 

like a mahogany table. A domestic chaplain, who said 
prayers every morning and evening in a small apart- 
ment called the chapel. Also a steward and butler. 
The family attended the Episcopal Church at Christ- 
mas, Easter, and Good Friday, and gave a grand en- 
tertainment once a year. 

Madam Cutts, at the last of these entertainments, 
wore a black damask gown, and cuffs with double lace 
ruffles, velvet shoes, blue silk stockings, white and sil- 
ver stomacher. The daughter and granddaughters in 
rich brocades and yellow satin. Old Major Cutts in 
brown velvet, laced with gold, and a large wig. The 
parson in his silk cassock, and his helpmate in brown 
damask. Old General Atkinson in scarlet velvet, and 
his wife and daughters in white damask. The Gov- 
ernor in black velvet, and his lady in crimson tabby 
trimmed with silver. The ladies wore bell-hoops, high- 
heeled shoes, paste buckles, silk stockings, and enor- 
mously high head-dresses, with lappets of Brussels lace 
hanging thence to the waist. 

Among the eatables, a silver tub of the capacity of 
four gallons, holding a pyramid of pancakes powdered 
with white sugar. 

The date assigned to all this about 1690. 

What is the price of a day's labor in Lapland, 
where the sun never sets for six months ? 

Miss Asphyxia Davis ! 

A life, generally of a grave hue, may be said to be 
embroidered with occasional sports and fantasies. 

A father confessor, — his reflections on character 



280 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

and the contrast of the inward man with the outward, 
as he looks around on his congregation, all whose se- 
cret sins are known to him. 

A person with an ice-cold hand, — his right hand, 
which people ever afterwards remember when once 
they have grasped it. 

A stove possessed by a Devil. 

June 1st, 1842. — One of my chief amusements is 
to see the boys sail their miniature vessels on the Prog 
Pond. There is a great variety of shipping owned 
among the young people, and they appear to have a 
considerable knowledge of the art of managing vessels. 
There is a full -rigged man-of-war, with, I believe, 
every spar, rope, and sail, that sometimes makes its 
appearance ; and, when on a voyage across the pond, 
it so identically resembles a great ship, except in size, 
that it has the effect of a picture. All its motions, — 
its tossing up and down on the small waves, and its 
sinking and rising in a calm swell, its heeling to the 
breeze, — the whole effect, in short, is that of a real 
ship at sea ; while, moreover, there is something that 
kindles the imagination more than the reality would 
do. If we see a real, great ship, the mind grasps and 
possesses, within its real clutch, all that there is of it ; 
while here the mimic ship is the representation of an 
ideal one, and so gives us a more imaginative pleas- 
ure. There are many schooners that ply to and fro 
on the pond, and pilot-boats, all perfectly rigged. I 
saw a race, the other day, between the ship above 
mentioned and a pilot-boat, in which the latter came 
off conqueror. The boys appear to be well acquainted 
with all the ropes and sails, and can call them by their 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 281 

nautical names. One of the owners of the vessels re- 
mains on one side of the pond, and the other on the 
opposite side, and so they send the little bark to and 
fro, like merchants of different countries, consigning 
their vessels to one another. 

Generally, when any vessel is on the pond, there 
are full-grown spectators, who look on with as much 
interest as the boys themselves. Towards sunset, this 
is especially the case : for then are seen young girls 
and their lovers; mothers, with their little boys in 
hand; school-girls, beating hoops round about, and 
occasionally running to the side of the pond ; rough 
tars, or perhaps masters or young mates of vessels, 
who make remarks about the miniature shipping, and 
occasionally give professional advice to the navigators ; 
visitors from the country ; gloved and caned young 
gentlemen, — in short, everybody stops to take a look. 
In the mean time, dogs are continually plunging into 
the pond, and swimming about, with noses pointed 
upward, and snatching at floating chips ; then emerg- 
ing, they shake themselves, scattering a horizontal 
shower on the clean gowns of ladies and trousers of 
gentlemen ; then scamper to and fro on the grass, with 
joyous barks. 

Some boys cast off lines of twine with pin-hooks, 
and perhaps pull out a horned-pout, — that being, I 
think, the only kind of fish that inhabits the Frog 
Pond. 

The ship-of-war above mentioned is about three feet 
from stem to stern, or possibly a few inches more. 
This, if I mistake not, was the size of a ship-of-the-line 
in the navy of Liliput 

Fancy pictures of familiar places which one has 
never been in, as the green-room of a theatre, etc. 



282 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

The famous characters of history, — to imagine their 
spirits now extant on earth, in the guise of various 
public or private personages. 

The case quoted in Combe's "Physiology" of a 
young man of great talents and profound knowledge 
of chemistry, who had in view some new discovery of 
importance. In order to put his mind into the high- 
est possible activity, he shut himself up for several 
successive days, and used various methods of excite- 
ment. He had a singing-girl, he drank spirits, smelled 
penetrating odors, sprinkled Cologne-water round the 
room, etc., etc. Eight days thus passed, when he was 
seized with a fit of frenzy which terminated in mania. 

Flesh and Blood, — a firm of butchers. 

Miss Polly Syllable, — a schoolmistress. 

Mankind are earthen jugs with spirits in them. 

A spendthrift, — in one sense he has his money's 
worth by the purchase of large lots of repentance and 
other dolorous commodities. 

To symbolize moral or spiritual disease by disease 
of the body ; as thus, — when a person committed any 
sin, it might appear in some form on the body, — this 
to be wrought out. 

" Shrieking fish," a strange idea of Leigh Hunt. 

In my museum, all the ducal rings that have been 
thrown into the Adriatic. 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 283 

An association of literary men in the other world, — 
or dialogues of the dead, or something of that kind. 

Imaginary diseases to be cured by impossible rem- 
edies, — as a dose of the Grand Elixir, in the yolk of 
a Phoenix's egg. The disease may be either moral or 
physical. 

A physician for the cure of moral diseases. 

To point out the moral slavery of one who deems 
himself a free man. 

A stray leaf from the book of fate, picked up in the 
street. 

Concord, August 5th. — A rainy day, — a rainy 
day. I am commanded to take pen in hand, and I 
am therefore banished to the little ten - foot - square 
apartment misnamed my study ; but perhaps the dis- 
malness of the day and the dulness of my solitude 
will be the prominent characteristics of what I write. 
And what is there to write about? Happiness has 
no succession of events, because it is a part of eterni- 
ty ; and we have been living in eternity ever since we 
came to this old manse. Like Enoch, we seem to 
have been translated to the other state of being with- 
out having passed through death. Our spirits must 
have flitted away unconsciously, and we can only per- 
ceive that we have cast off our mortal part by the 
more real and earnest life of our souls. Externally, 
our Paradise has very much the aspect of a pleasant 
old domicile on earth. This antique house — for it 
looks antique, though it was created by Providence ex- 



284 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

pressly for our use, and at the precise time when we 
wanted it — stands behind a noble avenue of balm-of- 
Gilead trees ; and when we chance to observe a pass- 
ing traveller through the sunshine and the shadow of 
this long avenue, his figure appears too dim and re- 
mote to disturb the sense of blissful seclusion. Few, 
indeed, are the mortals who venture within our sacred 
precincts. George Prescott, who has not yet grown 
earthly enough, I suppose, to be debarred from occa- 
sional visits to Paradise, comes daily to bring three 
pints of milk from some ambrosial cow ; occasionally, 
also, he makes an offering of mortal flowers. Mr. 
Emerson comes sometimes, and has been feasted on 
our nectar and ambrosia. Mr. Thoreau has twice 
listened to the music of the spheres, which, for our 
private convenience, we have packed into a musical- 
box. E H , who is much more at home 

among spirits than among fleshly bodies, came hither 
a few times merely to welcome us to the ethereal 
world; but latterly she has vanished into some other 
region of infinite space. One rash mortal, on the sec- 
ond Sunday after our arrival, obtruded himself upon 
us in a gig. There have since been three or four call- 
ers, who preposterously think that the courtesies of 
the lower world are to be responded to by people 
whose home is in Paradise. I must not forget to 
mention that the butcher comes twice or thrice a 
week ; and we have so far improved upon the custom 
of Adam and Eve, that we generally furnish forth 
our feasts with portions of some delicate calf or lamb, 
whose unspotted innocence entitles them to the happi- 
ness of becoming our sustenance. Would that I were 
permitted to record the celestial dainties that kind 
Heaven provided for us on the first day of our arri- 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 285 

val ! Never, surely, was such food heard of on earth, 
— at least, not by me. Well, the above-mentioned 
persons are nearly all that have entered into the hal- 
lowed shade of our avenue ; except, indeed, a certain 
sinner who came to bargain for the grass in our or- 
chard, and another who came with a new cistern. For 
it is one of the drawbacks upon our Eden that it con- 
tains no water fit either to drink or to bathe in ; so 
that the showers have become, in good truth, a god- 
send. I wonder why Providence does not cause a 
clear, cold fountain to bubble up at our doorstep ; me- 
thinks it would not be unreasonable to pray for such 
a favor. At present we are under the ridiculous ne- 
cessity of sending to the outer world for water. Only 
imagine Adam trudging out of Paradise with a bucket 
in each hand, to get water to drink, or for Eve to 
bathe in ! Intolerable ! (though our stout hand- 
maiden really fetches our water.) In other respects 
Providence has treated us pretty tolerably well ; but 
here I shall expect something further to be done. 
Also, in the way of future favors, a kitten would be 
very acceptable. Animals (except, perhaps, a pig) 
seem never out of place, even in the most paradisiacal 
spheres. And, by the way, a young colt comes up 
our avenue, now and then, to crop the seldom-trodden 
herbage ; and so does a company of cows, whose sweet 
breath well repays us for the food which they obtain. 
There are likewise a few hens, whose quiet cluck is 
heard pleasantly about the house. A black dog some- 
times stands at the farther extremity of the avenue, 
and looks wistfully hitherward ; but when I whistle to 
him, he puts his tail between his legs, and trots away. 
Foolish dog ! if he had more faith, he should have 
bones enough. 



286 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

Saturday, August 6th. — Still a dull day, threat- 
ening rain, yet without energy of character enough to 
rain outright. However, yesterday there were show- 
ers enough to supply us well with their beneficent out- 
pouring. As to the new cistern, it seems to be be- 
witched ; for, while the spout pours into it like a 
cataract, it still remains almost empty. I wonder 
where Mr. Hosmer got it; perhaps from Tantalus, 
under the eaves of whose palace it must formerly 
have stood ; for, like his drinking - cup in Hades, it 
has the property of filling itself forever, and never 
being full. 

After breakfast I took my fishing-rod, and went 
down through our orchard to the river-side ; but as 
three or four boys were already in possession of the 
best spots along the shore, I did not fish. This river 
of ours is the most sluggish stream that I ever was 
acquainted with. I had spent three weeks by its side, 
and swam across it every day, before I could de- 
termine which way its current ran ; and then I was 
compelled to decide the question by the testimony of 
others, and not by my own observation. Owing to 
this torpor of the stream, it has nowhere a bright, 
pebbly shore, nor is there so much as a narrow strip 
of glistening sand in any part of its course; but it 
slumbers along between broad meadows, or kisses the 
tangled grass of mowing-fields and pastures, or bathes 
the overhanging boughs of elder-bushes and other wa- 
ter-loving plants. Flags and rushes grow along its 
shallow margin. The yellow water-lily spreads its 
broad flat leaves upon its surface ; and the fragrant 
white pond-lily occurs in many favored spots, — gen- 
erally selecting a situation just so far from the river's 
brink that it cannot be grasped except at the hazard 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 287 

of plunging in. But thanks be to the beautiful flower 
for growing at any rate. It is a marvel whence it de- 
rives its loveliness and perfume, sprouting as it does 
from the black mud over which the river sleeps, and 
from which the yellow lily likewise draws its unclean 
life and noisome odor. So it is with many people in 
this world ; the same soil and circumstances may pro- 
duce the good and beautiful, and the wicked and ugly. 
Some have the faculty of assimilating to themselves 
only what is evil, and so they become as noisome as 
the yellow water-lily. Some assimilate none but good 
influences, and their emblem is the fragrant and spot- 
less pond-lily, whose very breath is a blessing to all 
the region round about. . . . Among the productions 
of the river's margin, I must not forget the pickerel- 
weed, which grows just on the edge of the water, and 
shoots up a long stalk crowned with a blue spire, from 
among large green leaves. Both the flower and the 
leaves look well in a vase with pond-lilies, and relieve 
the unvaried whiteness of the latter; and, being all 
alike children of the waters, they are perfectly in keep- 
ing with one another. . . . 

I bathe once, and often twice, a day in our river • 
but one dip into the salt sea would be worth more 
than a whole week's soaking in such a lifeless tide. I 
have read of a river somewhere (whether it be in clas- 
sic regions or among our Western Indians I know 
not) which seemed to dissolve and steal away the 
vigor of those who bathed in it. Perhaps our stream 
will be found to have this property. Its water, how- 
ever, is pleasant in its immediate effect, being as soft 
as milk, and always warmer than the air. Its hue has 
a slight tinge of gold, and my limbs, when I behold 
them through its medium, look tawny. I am not 



288 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842 

aware that the inhabitants of Concord resemble their 
native river in any of their moral characteristics. 
Their forefathers, certainly, seem to have had the en- 
ergy and impetus of a mountain torrent, rather than 
the torpor of this listless stream, — as it was proved 
by the blood with which they stained their river of 
Peace. It is said there are plenty of fish in it ; but 
my most important captures hitherto have been a mud- 
turtle and an enormous eel. The former made his es- 
cape to his native element, — the latter we ate ; and 
truly he had the taste of the whole river in his flesh, 
with a very prominent flavor of mud. On the whole, 
Concord River is no great favorite of mine ; but I am 
glad to have any river at all so near at hand, it being 
just at the bottom of our orchard. Neither is it with- 
out a degree and kind of picturesqueness, both in its 
nearness and in the distance, when a blue gleam from 
its surface, among the green meadows and woods, 
seems like an open eye in Earth's countenance. Pleas- 
ant it is, too, to behold a little flat-bottomed skiff glid- 
ing over its bosom, which yields lazily to the stroke of 
the paddle, and allows the boat to go against its cur- 
rent almost as freely as with it. Pleasant, too, to 
watch an angler, as he strays along the brink, some- 
times sheltering himself behind a tuft of bushes, and 
trailing his line along the water, in hopes to catch a 
pickerel. But, taking the river for all in all, I can 
find nothing more fit to compare it with than one of 
the half -torpid earthworms which I dig up for bait. 
The worm is sluggish, and so is the river, — the river 
is muddy, and so is the worm. You hardly know 
whether either of them be alive or dead ; but still, in 
the course of time, they both manage to creep away. 
The best aspect of the Concord is when there is a 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 289 

northwestern breeze curling its surface, in a bright, 
sunshiny day. It then assumes a vivacity not its own. 
Moonlight, also, gives it beauty, as it does to all scen- 
ery of earth or water. 

Sunday, August 1th. — At sunset last evening I 
ascended the hill-top opposite our house ; and, looking 
downward at the long extent of the river, it struck me 
that I had done it some injustice in my remarks. Per- 
haps, like other gentle and quiet characters, it will be 
better appreciated the longer I am acquainted with it. 
Certainly, as I beheld it then, it was one of the love- 
liest features in a scene of great rural beauty. It was 
visible through a course of two or three miles, sweep- 
ing in a semicircle round the hill on which I stood, 
and being the central line of a broad vale on either 
side. At a distance, it looked like a strip of sky set 
into the earth, which it so etherealized and idealized 
that it seemed akin to the upper regions. Nearer the 
base of the hill, I could discern the shadows of every 
tree and rock, imaged with a distinctness that made 
them even more charming than the reality ; because, 
knowing them to be unsubstantial, they assumed the 
ideality which the soul always craves in the contempla- 
tion of earthly beauty. All the sky, too, and the rich 
clouds of sunset, were reflected in the peaceful bosom 
of the river ; and surely, if its bosom can give back 
such an adequate reflection of heaven, it cannot be so 
gross and impure as I described it yesterday. Or, if 
so, it shall be a symbol to me that even a human 
breast, which may appear least spiritual in some as- 
pects, may still have the capability of reflecting an in- 
finite heaven in its depths, and therefore of enjoying 
it. It is a comfortable thought, that the smallest and 

VOL. IX. 19 



290 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

most turbid mud-puddle can contain its own picture of 
heaven. Let us remember this, when we feel inclined 
to deny all spiritual life to some people, in whom, 
nevertheless, our Father may perhaps see the image of 
His face. This dull river has a deep religion of its 
own ; so, let us trust, has the dullest human soul, 
though, perhaps, unconsciously. 

The scenery of Concord, as I beheld it from the 
summit of the hill, has no very marked characteristics, 
but has a great deal of quiet beauty, in keeping with 
the river. There are broad and peaceful meadows, 
which, I think, are among the most satisfying objects 
in natural scenery. The heart reposes on them with 
a feeling that few things else can give, because almost 
all other objects are abrupt and clearly denned ; but a 
meadow stretches out like a small infinity, yet with a 
secure homeliness which we do not find either in an 
expanse of water or of air. The hills which border 
these meadows are wide swells of land, or long and 
gradual ridges, some of them densely covered with 
wood. The white village, at a distance on the left, 
appears to be embosomed among wooded hills. The 
verdure of the country is much more perfect than is 
usual at this season of the year, when the autumnal 
hue has generally made considerable progress over 
trees and grass. Last evening, after the copious show- 
ers of the preceding two days, it was worthy of early 
June, or, indeed, of a world just created. Had I not 
then been alone, I should have had a far deeper sense 
of beauty, for I should have looked through the me- 
dium of another spirit. Along the horizon there were 
masses of those deep clouds in which the fancy may 
see images of all things that ever existed or were 
dreamed of. Over our old manse, of which I could 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 291 

catch but a glimpse among its embowering trees, ap 
peared the immensely gigantic figure of a hound 
crouching down with head erect, as if keeping watch- 
ful guard while the master of the mansion was away 
. . . How sweet it was to draw near my own home 
after having lived homeless in the world so long ! . 
With thoughts like these, I descended the hill, and 
clambered over the stone-wall, and crossed the road, 
and passed up our avenue, while the quaint old house 
put on an aspect of welcome. 

Monday, August 8th. — I wish I could give a de- 
scription of our house, for it really has a character of 
its own, which is more than can be said of most edi- 
fices in these days. It is two stories high, with a third 
story of attic chambers in the gable -roof. When I 
first visited it, early in June, it looked pretty much as 
it did during the old clergyman's lifetime, showing all 
the dust and disarray that might be supposed to have 
gathered about him in the course of sixty years of occu- 
pancy. The rooms seemed never to have been painted ; 
at all events, the walls and panels, as well as the huge 
cross-beams, had a venerable and most dismal tinge of 
brown. The furniture consisted of high-backed, short- 
legged, rheumatic chairs, small, old tables, bedsteads 
with lofty posts, stately chests of drawers, looking- 
glasses in antique black frames, all of which were 
probably fashionable in the days of Dr. Ripley's pre- 
decessor. It required some energy of imagination to 
conceive the idea of transforming this ancient edifice 
into a comfortable modern residence. However, it 
has been successfully accomplished. The old Doctor's 
sleeping-apartment, which was the front room on the 
ground-floor, we ha re converted into a parlor ; and by 



292 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

the aid of cheerful paint and paper, a gladsome carpet, 
pictures and engravings, new furniture, bijouterie, and 
a daily supply of flowers, it has become one of the 
prettiest and pleasantest rooms in the whole world. 
The shade of our departed host will never haunt it ; 
for its aspect has been changed as completely as the 
scenery of a theatre. Probably the ghost gave one 
peep into it, uttered a groan, and vanished forever. 
The opposite room has been metamorphosed into a 
store-room. Through the house, both in the first and 
second story, runs a spacious hall or entry, occupying 
more space than is usually devoted to such a purpose 
in modern times. This feature contributes to give the 
whole house an airy, roomy, and convenient appear- 
ance ; we can breathe the freer by the aid of the broad 
passageway. The front door of the hall looks up the 
stately avenue, which I have already mentioned ; and 
the opposite door opens into the orchard, through 
which a path descends to the river. In the second 
story we have at present fitted up three rooms, — one 
being our own chamber, and the opposite one a guest- 
chamber, which contains the most presentable of the 
old Doctor's ante-Revolutionary furniture. After all, 
the moderns have invented nothing better, as chamber 
furniture, than these chests of drawers, which stand on 
four slender legs, and rear an absolute tower of ma- 
hogany to the ceiling, the whole terminating in a fan- 
tastically carved summit. Such a venerable structure 
adorns our guest-chamber. In the rear of the house 
is the little room which I call my study, and which, 
in its day, has witnessed the intellectual labors of bet- 
ter students than myself. It contains, with some ad- 
ditions and alterations, the furniture of my bachelor- 
room in Boston; but there is a happier disposal of 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 293 

things now. There is a little vase of flowers on one 
of the bookcases, and a larger bronze vase of graceful 
ferns that surmounts the bureau. In size the room 
is just what it ought to be ; for I never could com- 
press my thoughts sufficiently to write in a very spa- 
cious room. It has three windows, two of which are 
shaded by a large and beautiful willow -tree, which 
sweeps against the overhanging eaves. On this side 
we have a view into the orchard, and, beyond, a 
glimpse of the river. The other window is the one 
from which Mr. Emerson, the predecessor of Dr. Rip- 
ley, beheld the first fight of the Revolution, — which 
he might well do, as the British troops were drawn up 
within a hundred yards of the house ; and on looking 
forth just now, I could still perceive the western abut- 
ments of the old bridge, the passage of which was con- 
tested. The new monument is visible from base to 
summit. 

Notwithstanding all we have done to modernize the 
old place, we seem scarcely to have disturbed its air of ' 
antiquity. It is evident that other wedded pairs have 
spent their honeymoons here, that children have been 
born here, and people have grown old and died in 
these rooms, although for our behoof the same apart- 
ments have consented to look cheerful once again. 
Then there are dark closets, and strange nooks and 
corners, where the ghosts of former occupants might 
hide themselves in the daytime, and stalk forth when 
night conceals all our sacrilegious improvements. We 
have seen no apparitions as yet ; but we hear strange 
noises, especially in the kitchen, and last night, while 
sitting in the parlor, we heard a thumping and pound- 
ing as of somebody at work in my study. Nay, if I 
mistake not (for I was half asleep), there was a sound 



294 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

as of some person crumpling paper in his hand in our 
very bedchamber. This must have been old Dr. Rip- 
ley with one of his sermons. There is a whole chest 
of them in the garret ; but he need have no appre- 
hensions of our disturbing them. I never saw the old 
patriarch myself, which I regret, as I should have been 
glad to associate his venerable figure at ninety years 
of age with the house in which he dwelt. 

Externally the house presents the same appearance 
as in the Doctor's day. It had once a coat of white 
paint ; but the storms and sunshine of many years 
have almost obliterated it, and produced a sober, 
grayish hue, which entirely suits the antique form of 
the structure. To repaint its reverend face would be 
a real sacrilege. It would look like old Dr. Ripley in 
a brown wig. I hardly know why it is that our cheer- 
ful and lightsome repairs and improvements in the in- 
terior of the house seem to be in perfectly good taste, 
though the heavy old beams and high wainscoting of 
the walls speak of ages gone by. But so it is. The 
cheerful paper-hangings have the air of belonging to 
the old walls ; and such modernisms as astral lamps, 
card-tables, gilded Cologne-bottles, silver taper-stands, 
and bronze and alabaster flower-vases, do not seem at 
all impertinent. It is thus that an aged man may 
keep his heart warm for new things and new friends, 
and often furnish himself anew with ideas ; though it 
would not be graceful for him to attempt to suit his 
exterior to the passing fashions of the day. 

August 9th. — Our orchard in its day has been a 
very productive and profitable one ; and we were told 
that in one year it returned Dr. Ripley a hundred 
dollars, besides defraying the expense of repairing 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 295 

the bouse. It is now long past its prime : many of 
the trees are moss-grown, and have dead and rotten 
branches intermixed among the green and fruitful ones. 
And it may well be so ; for I suppose some of the 
trees may have been set out by Mr. Emerson, who 
died in the first year of the Revolutionary War. 
Neither will the fruit, probably, bear comparison with 
the delicate productions of modern pomology. Most 
of the trees seem to have abundant burdens upon 
them ; but they are homely russet apples, fit only for 
baking and cooking. (But we are yet to have prac- 
tical experience of our fruit.) Justice Shallow's or- 
chard, with its choice pippins and leather-coats, was 
doubtless much superior. Nevertheless, it pleases me 
to think of the good minister, walking in the shadows 
of these old, fantastically shaped apple-trees, here 
plucking some of the fruit to taste, there pruning 
away a too luxuriant branch, and all the while com- 
puting how many barrels may be filled, and how large 
a sum will be added to his stipend by their sale. And 
the same trees offer their fruit to me as freely as they 
did to him, — their old branches, like withered hands 
and arms, holding out apples of the same flavor as 
they held out to Dr. Ripley in his lifetime. Thus 
the trees, as living existences, form a peculiar link be- 
tween the dead and us. My fancy has always found 
something very interesting in an orchard. Apple- 
trees, and all fruit-trees, have a domestic character 
which brings them into relationship with man. They 
have lost, in a great measure, the wild nature of the 
forest-tree, and have grown humanized by receiving 
the care of man, and by contributing to his wants. 
They have become a part of the family ; and their in- 
dividual characters are as well understood and appreci- 



296 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

ated as those of the human members. One tree is 
harsh and crabbed, another mild ; one is churlish and 
illiberal, another exhausts itself with its free-hearted 
bounties. Even the shapes of apple-trees have great 
individuality, into such strange postures do they put 
themselves, and thrust their contorted branches so 
grotesquely in all directions. And when they have 
stood around a house for many years, and held con- 
verse with successive dynasties of occupants, and glad- 
dened their hearts so often in the fruitful autumn, 
then it would seem almost sacrilege to cut them down. 
Besides the apple-trees, there are various other 
kinds of fruit in close vicinity to the house. When 
we first arrived, there were several trees of ripe cher- 
ries, but so sour that we allowed them to wither upon 
the branches. Two long rows of currant-bushes sup- 
plied us abundantly for nearly four weeks. There are 
a good many peach-trees, but all of an old date, — 
their branches rotten, gummy, and mossy, — and their 
fruit, I fear, will be of very inferior quality. They 
produce most abundantly, however, — the peaches be- 
ing almost as numerous as the leaves ; and even the 
sprouts and suckers from the roots of the old trees 
have fruit upon them. Then there are pear-trees of 
various kinds, and one or two quince-trees. On the 
whole, these fruit-trees, and the other items and ad- 
juncts of the place, convey a very agreeable idea of 
the outward comfort in which the good old Doctor 
must have spent his life. Everything seems to have 
fallen to his lot that could possibly be supposed to 
render the life of a country clergyman easy and pros- 
perous. There is a barn, which probably used to be 
filled annually with his hay and other agricultural pro- 
ducts. There are sheds, and a hen-house, and a pig« 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 297 

eon-house, and an old stone pigsty, the open portion 
of which is overgrown with tall weeds, indicating that 
no grunter has recently occupied it. . . . I have se- 
rious thoughts of inducting a new incumbent in this 
part of the parsonage. It is our duty to support a 
pig, even if we have no design of feasting upon him ; 
and, for my own part, I have a great sympathy and 
interest for the whole race of porkers, and should 
have much amusement in studying the character of 
a pig. Perhaps I might try to bring out his moral 
and intellectual nature, and cultivate his affections. 
A cat, too, and perhaps a dog, would be desirable ad* 
ditions to our household. 

August IQth. — The natural taste of man for the 
original Adam's occupation is fast developing itself in 
me. I find that I am a good deal interested in our 
garden, although, as it was planted before we came 
here, I do not feel the same affection for the plants 
that I should if the seed had been sown by my own 
hands. It is something like nursing and educating 
another person's children. Still, it was a very pleas- 
ant moment when I gathered the first string-beans, 
which were the earliest esculent that the garden con- 
tributed to our table. And I love to watch the succes- 
sive development of each new vegetable, and mark its 
daily growth, which always affects me with surprise. 
It is as if something were being created under my 
own inspection, and partly by my own aid. One day, 
perchance, I look at my bean-vines, and see only the 
green leaves clambering up the poles ; again, to-mor- 
row, I give a second glance, and there are the delicate 
blossoms ; and a third day, on a somewhat closer oV 
servation, I discover the tender young beans, hiding 



298 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

among the foliage. Then, each morning, I watch the 
swelling of the pods and calculate how soon they will 
be ready to yield their treasures. All this gives a 
pleasure and an ideality, hitherto unthought of, to 
the business of providing sustenance for my family. 
I suppose Adam felt it in Paradise ; and, of merely 
and exclusively earthly enjoyments, there are few 
purer and more harmless to be experienced. Speak- 
ing of beans, by the way, they are a classical food, 
and their culture must have been the occupation of 
many ancient sages and heroes. Summer - squashes 
are a very pleasant vegetable to be acquainted with. 
They grow in the forms of urns and vases, — some 
shallow, others deeper, and all with a beautifully scal- 
loped edge. Almost any squash in our garden might 
be copied by a sculptor, and would look lovely in 
marble, or in china ; and, if I could afford it, I would 
have exact imitations of the real vegetable as portions 
of my dining-service. They would be very appropri- 
ate dishes for holding garden-vegetables. Besides the 
summer-squashes, we have the crook-necked winter- 
squash, which I always delight to look at, when it 
turns up its big rotundity to ripen in the autumn sun. 
Except a pumpkin, there is no vegetable production 
that imparts such an idea of warmth and comfort to 
the beholder. Our own crop, however, does not prom- 
ise to be very abundant ; for the leaves formed such a 
superfluous shade over the young blossoms, that most 
of them dropped off without producing the germ of 
fruit. Yesterday and to-day I have cut off an im- 
mense number of leaves, and have thus given the re- 
maining blossoms a chance to profit by the air and 
sunshine ; but the season is too far advanced, I am 
afraid, for the squashes to attain any great bulk, and 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 299 

grow yellow in the sun. We have muskmelons and 
watermelons, which promise to supply us with as 
many as we can eat. After all, the greatest interest 
of these vegetables does not seem to consist in their 
being articles of food. It is rather that we love to see 
something born into the world ; and when a great 
squash or melon is produced, it is a large and tangible 
existence, which the imagination can seize hold of and 
rejoice in. I love, also, to see my own works con- 
tributing to the life and well-being of animate nature. 
It is pleasant to have the bees come and suck honey 
out of my squash-blossoms, though, when they have 
laden themselves, they fly away to some unknown 
hive, which will give me back nothing in return for 
what my garden has given them. But there is much 
more honey in the world, and so I am content. In- 
dian corn, in the prime and glory of its verdure, is a 
very beautiful vegetable, both considered in the sepa- 
rate plant, and in a mass in a broad field, rustling and 
waving, and surging up and down in the breeze and 
sunshine of a summer afternoon. We have as many 
as fifty hills, I should think, which will give us an 
abundant supply. Pray Heaven that we may be able 
to eat it all ! for it is not pleasant to think that any- 
thing which Nature has been at the pains to produce 
should be thrown away. But the hens will be glad of 
our superfluity, and so will the pigs, though we have 
neither hens nor pigs of our own. But hens we must 
certainly keep. There is something very sociable and 
quiet, and soothing, too, in their soliloquies and con- 
verse among themselves ; and, in an idle and half- 
meditative mood, it is very pleasant to watch a party 
of hens picking up their daily subsistence, with a gal- 
lant chanticleer in the midst of them. Milton had 
evidently contemplated such a picture with delight. 



300 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

I find that I have not given a very complete idea 
of our garden, although it certainly deserves an ample 
record in this chronicle, since my labors in it are the 
only present labors of my life. Besides what I have 
mentioned, we have cucumber - vines, which to - day 
yielded us the first cucumber of the season, a bed of 
beets, and another of carrots, and another of parsnips 
and turnips, none of which promise us a very abundant 
harvest. In truth, the soil is worn out, and, moreover, 
received very little manure this season. Also, we have 
cabbages in superfluous abundance, inasmuch as we 
neither of us have the least affection for them ; and it 
would be unreasonable to expect Sarah, the cook, to 
eat fifty head of cabbages. Tomatoes, too, we shall 
have by and by. At our first arrival, we found green 
peas ready for gathering, and these, instead of the 
string-beans, were the first offering of the garden to 
our board. 

Saturday, August 13th. — My life, at this time, is 
more like that of a boy, externally, than it has been 
since I was really a boy. It is usually supposed that 
the cares of life come with matrimony ; but I seem to 
have cast off all care, and live on with as much easy 
trust in Providence as Adam could possibly have felt 
before he had learned that there was a world beyond 
Paradise, My chief anxiety consists in watching the 
prosperity of my vegetables, in observing how they are 
affected by the rain or sunshine, in lamenting the 
blight of one squash and rejoicing at the luxurious 
growth of another. It is as if the original relation be- 
tween man and Nature were restored in my case, and 
as if I were to look exclusively to her for the support 
of my Eve and myself, — to trust to her for food and 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 301 

clothing", and all things needful, with the full assurance 
that she would not fail me. The fight with the world, 
— the struggle of a man among men, — the agony of 
the universal effort to wrench the means of living from 
a host of greedy competitors, — all this seems like a 
dream to me. My business is merely to live and to 
enjoy ; and whatever is essential to life and enjoyment 
will come as naturally as the dew from heaven. This 
is, practically at least, my faith. And so I awake in 
the morning with a boyish thoughtlessness as to how 
the outgoings of the day are to be provided for, and 
its incomings rendered certain. After breakfast, I go 
forth into my garden, and gather whatever the bounti- 
ful Mother has made fit for our present sustenance ; 
and of late days she generally gives me two squashes 
and a cucumber, and promises me green corn and 
shell-beans very soon. Then I pass down through 
our orchard to the river-side, and ramble along its 
margin in search of flowers. Usually I discern a 
fragrant white lily, here and there along the shore, 
growing, with sweet prudishness, beyond the grasp of 
mortal arm. But it does not escape me so. I know 
what is its fitting destiny better than the silly flower 
knows for itself ; so I wade in, heedless of wet trou- 
sers, and seize the shy lily by its slender stem. Thus 
I make prize of five or six, which are as many as usu- 
ally blossom within my reach in a single morning ; — - 
some of them partially worm-eaten or blighted, like 
virgins with an eating sorrow at the heart ; others as 
fair and perfect as Nature's own idea was, when she 
first imagined this lovely flower. A perfect pond-lily 
is the most satisfactory of flowers. Besides these, I 
gather whatever else of beautiful chances to be grow- 
ing in the moist soil by the river-side, — an amphibi- 



302 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

ous tribe, yet with more richness and grace than the 
wild-flowers of the deep and dry woodlands and hedge- 
rows, — sometimes the white arrow-head, always the 
blue spires and broad green leaves of the pickerel- 
flower, which contrast and harmonize so well with the 
white lilies. For the last two or three days, I have 
found scattered stalks of the cardinal-flower, the gor- 
geous scarlet of which it is a joy even to remember. 
The world is made brighter and sunnier by flowers 
of such a hue. Even perfume, which otherwise is the 
soul and spirit of a flower, may be spared when it 
arrays itself in this scarlet glory. It is a flower of 
thought and feeling, too ; it seems to have its roots 
deep down in the hearts of those who gaze at it. 
Other bright flowers sometimes impress me as wanting 
sentiment ; but it is not so with this. 

Well, having made up my bunch of flowers, I re- 
turn home with them. . . . Then I ascend to my 
study, and generally read, or perchance scribble in this 
journal, and otherwise suffer Time to loiter onward 
at his own pleasure, till the dinner-hour. In pleasant 
days, the chief event of the afternoon, and the hap- 
piest one of the day, is our walk. ... So comes the 
night ; and I look back upon a day spent in what the 
world would call idleness, and for which I myself can 
suggest no more appropriate epithet, but which, never- 
theless, I cannot feel to have been spent amiss. True, 
it might be a sin and shame, in such a world as ours, 
to spend a lifetime in this manner ; but for a few sum- 
mer weeks it is good to live as if this world were 
heaven. And so it is, and so it shall be, although, in 
a little while, a flitting shadow of earthly care and toil 
will mingle itself with our realities. 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 303 

Monday, August 15th. — George Hillard and his 
wife arrived from Boston in the dusk of Saturday 
evening, to spend Sunday with us. It was a pleasant 
sensation, when the coach rumbled up our avenue, and 
wheeled round at the door ; for I felt that I was re- 
garded as a man with a household, — a man having a 
tangible existence and locality in the world, — when 
friends came to avail themselves of our hospitality. 
It was a sort of acknowledgment and reception of us 
into the corps of married people, — a sanction by no 
means essential to our peace and well-being, but yet 
agreeable enough to receive. So we welcomed them 
cordially at the door, and ushered them into our par- 
lor, and soon into the supper-room. . . . The night 
flitted over us all, and passed away, and up rose a 
gray and sullen morning, . . . and we had a splen- 
did breakfast of flapjacks, or slapjacks, and whortle- 
berries, which I gathered on a neighboring hill, and 
perch, bream, and pout, which I hooked out of the 
river the evening before. About nine o'clock, Hillard 
and I set out for a walk to Walden Pond, calling by 
the way at Mr. Emerson's, to obtain his guidance or 
directions, and he accompanied us in his own illustri- 
ous person. We turned aside a little from our way, 

to visit Mr. , a yeoman, of whose homely and 

self-acquired wisdom Mr. Emerson has a very high 
opinion. We found him walking in his fields, a short 
and stalwart and sturdy personage of middle age, with 
a face of shrewd and kind expression, and manners of 
natural courtesy. He had a very free flow of talk ; 
for, with a little induction from Mr. Emerson, he be- 
gan to discourse about the state of the nation, agricul- 
ture, and business in general, uttering thoughts that 
had come to him at the plough, and which had a sort 



304 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

of flavor of the fresh earth about them. His views 
were sensible and characteristic, and had grown in the 
soil where we found them ; . . . and he is certainly 
a man of intellectual and moral substance, a sturdy 
fact, a reality, something to be felt and touched, whose 
ideas seem to be dug out of his mind as he digs pota- 
toes, beets, carrots, and turnips out of the ground. 

After leaving Mr. , we proceeded through wood- 
paths to Walden Pond, picking blackberries of enor- 
mous size along the way. The pond itself was beau- 
tiful and refreshing to my soul, after such long and 
exclusive familiarity with our tawny and sluggish 
river. It lies embosomed among wooded hills, — it is 
not very extensive, but large enough for waves to 
dance upon its surface, and to look like a piece of 
blue firmament, earth-encircled. The shore has a nar- 
row, pebbly strand, which it was worth a day's jour- 
ney to look at, for the sake of the contrast between it 
and the weedy, oozy margin of the river. Farther 
within its depths, you perceive a bottom of pure white 
sand, sparkling through the transparent water, which, 
methought, was the very purest liquid in the world. 
After Mr. Emerson left us, Hillard and I bathed in 
the pond, and it does really seem as if my spirit, as 
well as corporeal person, were refreshed by that bath. 
A good deal of mud and river slime had accumulated 
on my soul ; but these bright waters washed them all 
away. 

We returned home in due season for dinner. . . . 
To my misfortune, however, a box of Mediterranean 
wine proved to have undergone the acetous fermenta- 
tion ; so that the splendor of the festival suffered some 
diminution. Nevertheless, we ate our dinner with a 
good appetite, and afterwards went universally to take 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 305 

our several siestas. Meantime there came a shower, 
which so besprinkled the grass and shrubbery as to 
make it rather wet for our after-tea ramble. The chief 
result of the walk was the bringing home of an im- 
mense burden of the trailing clematis-vine, now just 
in blossom, and with which all our flower-stands and 
vases are .this morning decorated. On our return 

we found Mr. and Mrs. S , and E. H , who 

shortly took their leave, and we sat up late, telling 
ghost-stories. This morning, at seven, our friends left 
us. We were both pleased with the visit, and so, I 
think, were our guests. 



Monday, August 22d. — I took a walk through the 
woods yesterday afternoon, to Mr. Emerson's, with a 
book which Margaret Fuller had left, after a call on 
Saturday eve. I missed the nearest way, and wan- 
dered into a very secluded portion of the forest ; for 
forest it might justly be called, so dense and sombre 
was the shade of oaks and pines. Once I wandered 
into a tract so overgrown with bushes and underbrush 
that I could scarcely force a passage through. Noth- 
ing is more annoying than a walk of this kind, where 
one is tormented by an innumerable host of petty 
impediments. It incenses and depresses me at the 
same time. Always when I flounder into the midst of 
bushes, which cross and intertwine themselves about 
my legs, and brush my face, and seize hold of my 
clothes, with their multitudinous grip, — always, in 
such a difficulty, I feel as if it were almost as well to 
lie down and die in rage and despair as to go one step 
farther. It is laughable, after I have got out of the 
moil, to think how miserably it affected me for the 

vol. ix. 20 



306 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

moment; but I had better learn patience betimes, for 
there are many such bushy tracts in this vicinity, on 
the margins of meadows, and my walks will often lead 
me into them. Escaping from the bushes, I soon came 
to an open space among the woods, — a very lovely 
spot, with the tall old trees standing around as quietly 
as if no one had intruded there throughout the whole 
summer. A company of crows were holding their Sab- 
bath on their summits. Apparently they felt them- 
selves injured or insulted by my presence ; for, with 
one consent, they began to Caw ! caw ! caw ! and, 
launching themselves sullenly on the air, took flight 
to some securer solitude. Mine, probably, was the 
first human shape that they had seen all day long, — 
at least, if they had been stationary in that spot ; but 
perhaps they had winged their way over miles and 
miles of country, had breakfasted on the summit of 
Graylock, and dined at the base of Wachusett, and 
were merely come to sup and sleep among the quiet 
woods of Concord. But it was my impression at the 
time, that they had sat still and silent on the tops of 
the trees all through the Sabbath day, and I felt like 
one who should unawares disturb an assembly of wor- 
shippers. A crow, however, has no real pretensions 
to religion, in spite of his gravity of mien and black 
attire. Crows are certainly thieves, and probably in- 
fidels. Nevertheless, their voices yesterday were in 
admirable accordance with the influences of the quiet, 
sunny, warm, yet autumnal afternoon. They were so 
far above my head that their loud clamor added to the 
quiet of the scene, instead of disturbing it. There 
was no other sound, except the song of the cricket, 
which is but an audible stillness ; for, though it be 
very loud and heard afar, yet the mind does not take 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 307 

note of it as a sound, so entirely does it mingle and 
lose its individuality among the other characteristics 
of coming autumn. Alas for the summer ! The grass 
is still verdant on the hills and in the valleys ; the f oli- 
age of the trees is as dense as ever, and as green ; the 
flowers are abundant along the margin of the river, 
and in the hedge-rows, and deep among the woods; 
the days, too, are as fervid as they were a month ago ; 
and yet in every breath of wind and in every beam of 
sunshine there is an autumnal influence. I know not 
how to describe it. Methinks there is a sort of cool- 
ness amid all the heat, and a mildness in the brightest 
of the sunshine. A breeze cannot stir without thrill- 
ing me with the breath of autumn, and I behold its 
pensive glory in the far, golden gleams among the long 
shadows of the trees. The flowers, even the brightest 
of them, — the golden-rod and the gorgeous cardinals, 
— the most glorious flowers of the year, — have this 
gentle sadness amid their pomp. Pensive autumn is 
expressed in the glow of every one of them. I have 
felt this influence earlier in some years than in others. 
Sometimes autumn may be perceived even in the early 
days of July. There is no other feeling like that 
caused by this faint, doubtful, yet real perception, or 
rather prophecy, of the year's decay, so deliciously 
sweet and sad at the same time. 

After leaving the book at Mr. Emerson's I returned 
through the woods, and, entering Sleepy Hollow, I 
perceived a lady reclining near the path which bends 
along its verge. It was Margaret herself. She had 
been there the whole afternoon, meditating or reading ; 
for she had a book in her hand, with some strange 
title, which I did not understand, and have forgotten. 
She said that nobody had broken her solitude, ' and 



308 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS, [1842. 

was just giving utterance to a theory that no inhabit 
tant of Concord ever visited Sleepy Hollow, when we 
saw a group of people entering the sacred precincts. 
Most of them followed a path which led them away 
from us ; but an old man passed near us, and smiled 
to see Margaret reclining on the ground, and me sit~ 
ting by her side. He made some remark about the 
beauty of the afternoon, and withdrew himself into the 
shadow of the wood. Then we talked about autumn, 
and about the pleasures of being lost in the woods, and 
about the crows, whose voices Margaret had heard , 
and about the experiences of early childhood, whose 
influence remains upon the character after the recol- 
lection of them has passed away ; and about the sight 
of mountains from a distance, and the view from their 
summits ; and about other matters of high and low 
philosophy. In the midst of our talk, we heard foot- 
steps above us, on the high bank ; and while the per- 
son was still hidden among the trees, he called to Mar- 
garet, of whom he had gotten a glimpse. Then he 
emerged from the green shade, and, behold ! it was 
Mr. Emerson. He appeared to have had a pleasant 
time ; for he said that there were Muses in the woods 
to-day, and whispers to be heard in the breezes. It be- 
ing now nearly six o'clock, we separated, — Margaret 
and Mr. Emerson towards his home, and I towards 
mine. . . . 

Last evening there was the most beautiful moon- 
light that ever hallowed this earthly world ; and when 
I went to bathe in the river, which was as calm as 
death, it seemed like plunging down into the sky. But 
I had rather be on earth than even in the seventh 
heaven, just now. 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 309 

Wednesday, August 2ith. — I left home at five 
o'clock this morning to catch some fish for breakfast. 
I shook our summer apple-tree, and ate the golden ap- 
ple which fell from it. Methinks these early apples, 
which come as a golden promise before the treasures 
of autumnal fruit, are almost more delicious than any- 
thing that comes afterwards. We have but one such 
tree in our orchard; but it supplies us with a daily 
abundance, and probably will do so for at least a week 
to come. Meantime other trees begin to cast their 
ripening windfalls upon the grass ; and when I taste 
them, and perceive their mellowed flavor and blacken- 
ing seeds, I feel somewhat overwhelmed with the im-. 
pending bounties of Providence. I suppose Adam, in 
Paradise, did not like to see his fruits decaying on the 
ground, after he had watched them through the sunny 
days of the world's first summer. However, insects^ 
at the worst, will hold a festival upon them, so that 
they will not be thrown away, in the great scheme oi 
Nature. Moreover, I have one advantage over the 
primeval Adam, inasmuch as there is a chance of dis- 
posing of my superfluous fruits among people who in- 
habit no Paradise of their own. 

Passing a little way down along the river-side, I 
threw in my line, and soon drew out one of the small- 
est possible of fishes. It seemed to be a pretty good 
morning for the angler, — an autumnal coolness in the 
air, a clear sky, but with a fog across the lowlands 
and on the surface of the river, which a gentle breeze 
sometimes condensed into wreaths. At first, I could 
barely discern the opposite shore of the river ; but, as 
the sun arose, the vapors gradually dispersed, till only 
a warm, smoky tint was left along the water's surface. 
The farm-houses across the river made their appear- 



310 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

ance out of the dusky cloud ; the voices of boys were 
heard, shouting to the cattle as they drove them to the 
pastures ; a man whetted his scythe, and set to work 
in a neighboring meadow. Meantime, I continued to 
stand on the oozy margin of the stream, beguiling the 
little fish; and though the scaly inhabitants of our 
river partake somewhat of the character of their na- 
tive element, and are but sluggish biters, still I con- 
trived to pull out not far from two dozen. They were 
all bream, a broad, flat, almost circular fish, shaped 
a good deal like a flounder, but swimming on their 
edges, instead of on their sides. As far as mere pleas- 
ure is concerned, it is hardly worth while to fish in our 
river, it is so much like angling in a mud-puddle ; and 
one does not attach the idea of freshness and purity to 
the fishes, as we do to those which inhabit swift, trans- 
parent streams, or haunt the shores of the great briny 
deep. Standing on the weedy margin, and throwing 
the line over the elder-bushes that dip into the water, 
it seems as if we could catch nothing but frogs and 
mud-turtles, or reptiles akin to them. And even when 
a fish of reputable aspect is drawn out, one feels a 
shyness about touching him. As to our river, its char- 
acter was admirably expressed last night by some one 
who said " it was too lazy to keep itself clean." I 
might write pages and pages, and only obscure the im- 
pression which this brief sentence conveys. Neverthe- 
less, we made bold to eat some of my fish for break- 
fast, and found them very savory ; and the rest shall 
meet with due entertainment at dinner, together with 
some shell-beans, green corn, and cucumbers from our 
garden ; so this day's food comes directly and entirely 
from beneficent Nature, without the intervention of 
any third person between her and us. 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 311 

Saturday, August 21th. — A peach-tree, which 
grows beside our house and brushes against the win- 
dow, is so burdened with fruit that I have had to prop 
it up. I never saw more splendid peaches in appear- 
ance, — great, round, crimson-cheeked beauties, clus- 
tering all over the tree. A pear-tree, likewise, is ma- 
turing a generous burden of small, sweet fruit, which 
will require to be eaten at about the same time as the 
peaches. There is something pleasantly annoying in 
this superfluous abundance ; it is like standing under 
a tree of ripe apples, and giving it a shake, with the 
intention of bringing down a single one, when, behold, 
a dozen come thumping about our ears. But the idea 
of the infinite generosity and exhaustless bounty of 
our Mother Nature is well worth attaining; and I 
never had it so vividly as now, when I find myself, 
with the few mouths which I am to feed, the sole in- 
heritor of the old clergyman's wealth of fruits. His 
children, his friends in the village, and the clerical 
guests who came to preach in his pulpit, were all wont 
to eat and be filled from these trees. Now, all these 
hearty old people have passed away, and in their stead 
is a solitary pair, whose appetites are more than satis- 
fied with the windfalls which the trees throw down at 
their feet. Howbeit, we shall have now and then a 
guest to keep our peaches and pears from decaying. 

G. B , my old fellow-laborer at the community 

at Brook Farm, called on me last evening, and dined 
here to-day. He has been cultivating vegetables at 
Plymouth this summer, and selling them in the mar- 
ket. What a singular mode of life for a man of edu- 
cation and refinement, — to spend his days in hard 
and earnest bodily toil, and then to convey the prod- 
ucts of his labor, in a wheelbarrow, to the public mar* 



312 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

ket, and there retail them out, — a peck of peas or 
beans, a hunch of turnips, a squash, a dozen ears of 
green corn ! Few men, without some eccentricity of 
character, would have the moral strength to do this ; 
and it is very striking to find such strength combined 
with the utmost gentleness, and an uncommon regu- 
larity of nature. Occasionally he returns for a day or 
two to resume his place among scholars and idle peo- 
ple, as, for instance, the present week, when he has 
thrown aside his spade and hoe to attend the Com- 
mencement at Cambridge. He is a rare man, — a 
perfect original, yet without any one salient point ; a 
character to be felt and understood, but almost impos- 
sible to describe ; for, should you seize upon any char- 
acteristic, it would inevitably be altered and distorted 
in the process of writing it down. 

Our few remaining days of summer have been lat- 
terly grievously darkened with clouds. To-day there 
has been an hour or two of hot sunshine ; but the sun 
rose amid cloud and mist, and before he could dry up 
the moisture of last night's shower upon the trees and 
grass, the clouds have gathered between him and us 
again. This afternoon the thunder rumbles in the dis- 
tance, and I believe a few drops of rain have fallen ; 
but the weight of the shower has burst elsewhere, leav- 
ing us nothing but its sullen gloom. There is a muggy 
warmth in the atmosphere, which takes all the spring 
and vivacity out of the mind and body. 

Sunday, August 28th. — Still another rainy day, — 
the heaviest rain, I believe, that has fallen since we 
came to Concord (not two months ago). There never 
was a more sombre aspect of all external nature. I 
gaze from the open window of my study somewhat dis* 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 313 

consolately, and observe the great willow-tree which 
shades the house, and which has caught and retained 
a whole cataract of rain among its leaves and boughs ; 
and all the fruit-trees, too, are dripping continually, 
even in the brief intervals when the clouds give us a 
respite. If shaken to bring down the fruit, they will 
discharge a shower upon the head of him who stands 
beneath. The rain is warm, coming from some south- 
ern region ; but the willow attests that it is an au- 
tumnal spell of weather, by scattering down no infre- 
quent multitude of yellow leaves, which rest upon the 
sloping roof of the house, and strew the gravel-path 
and the grass. The other trees do not yet shed their 
leaves, though in some of them a lighter tint of ver- 
dure, tending towards yellow, is perceptible. All day 
long we hear the water drip, drip, dripping, splash, 
splash, splashing, from the eaves, and babbling and 
foaming into the tubs which have been set out to re- 
ceive it. The old unpainted shingles and boards of 
the mansion and out-houses are black with the mois- 
ture which they have imbibed. Looking at the river, 
we perceive that its usually smooth and mirrored sur- 
face is blurred by the infinity of rain-drops ; the whole 
landscape — grass, trees, and houses — has a com- 
pletely water-soaked aspect, as if the earth were wet 
through. The wooded hill, about a mile distant, 
whither we went to gather whortleberries, has a mist 
upon its summit, as if the demon of the rain were en- 
throned there ; and if we look to the sky, it seems as 
if all the water that had been poured down upon us 
were as nothing to what is to come. Once in a while, 
indeed, there is a gleam of sky along the horizon, or a 
half -cheerful, half- sullen lighting up of the atmos- 
phere; the rain-drops cease to patter down, except 



314 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

when the trees shake off a gentle shower ; but soon we 
hear the broad, quiet, slow, and sure recommencement 
of the rain. The river, if I mistake not, has risen 
considerably during the day, and its current will ac- 
quire some degree of energy. 

In this sombre weather, when some mortals almost 
forget that there ever was any golden sunshine, or ever 
will be any hereafter, others seem absolutely to radiate 
it from their own hearts and minds. The gloom can- 
not pervade them ; they conquer it, and drive it quite 
out of their sphere, and create a moral rainbow of 
hope upon the blackest cloud. As for myself, I am 
little other than a cloud at such seasons, but such per- 
sons contrive to make me a sunny one, shining all 
through me. And thus, even without the support of a 
stated occupation, I survive these sullen days and am 
happy. 

This morning we read the Sermon on the Mount. 
In the course of the forenoon, the rain abated for 
a season, and I went out and gathered some corn 
and summer -squashes, and picked up the windfalls 
of apples and pears and peaches. Wet, wet, wet, — 
everything was wet ; the blades of the corn-stalks 
moistened me ; the wet grass soaked my boots quite 
through ; the trees threw their reserved showers upon 
my head ; and soon the remorseless rain began anew, 
and drove me into the house. When shall we be able 
to walk again to the far hills, and plunge into the deep 
woods, and gather more cardinals along the river's 
margin ? The track along which we trod is probably 
under water now. How inhospitable Nature is during 
a rain ! In the fervid heat of sunny days, she still 
retains some degree of mercy for us ; she has shady 
spots, whither the sun cannot come ; but she provides 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 315 

no shelter against her storms. It makes one shiver 
to think how dripping with wet are those deep, um- 
brageous nooks, those overshadowed banks, where we 
find such enjoyment during sultry afternoons. And 
what becomes of the birds in such a soaking rain as 
this ? Is hope and an instinctive faith so mixed up 
with their nature that they can be cheered by the 
thought that the sunshine will return? or do they 
think, as I almost do, that there is to be no sunshine 
any more? Very disconsolate must they be among 
the dripping leaves ; and when a single summer makes 
so important a portion of their lives, it seems hard 
that so much of it should be dissolved in rain. I, like- 
wise, am greedy of the summer days for my own sake ; 
the life of man does not contain so many of them that 
one can be spared without regret. 

Tuesday, August 30^A. — I was promised, in the 
midst of Sunday's rain, that Monday should be fair, 
and, behold! the sun came back to us, and brought 
one of the most perfect days ever made since Adam 
was driven out of Paradise. By the by, was there 
ever any rain in Paradise ? If so, how comfortless 
must Eve's bower have been! and what a wretched 
and rheumatic time must they have had on their bed 
of wet roses ! It makes me shiver to think of it. 
Well, it seemed as if the world was newly created 
yesterday morning, and I beheld its birth ; for I had 
risen before the sun was over the hill, and had gone 
forth to fish. How instantaneously did all dreariness 
and heaviness of the earth's spirit flit away before one 
smile of the beneficent sun ! This proves that all 
gloom is but a dream and a shadow, and that cheer- 
fulness is the real truth. It requires many clouds, 



316 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

long brooding over us, to make us sad, but one gleam 
of sunshine always suffices to cheer up the landscape. 
The banks of the river actually laughed when the sun- 
shine fell upon them ; and the river itself was alive and 
cheerful, and, by way of fun and amusement, it had 
swept away many wreaths of meadow-hay, and old, rot- 
ten branches of trees, and all such trumpery. These 
matters came floating downwards, whirling round and 
round in the eddies, or hastening onward in the main 
current; and many of them, before this time, have 
probably been carried into the Merrimack, and will 
be borne onward to the sea. The spots where I stood 
to fish, on my preceding excursion, were now under 
water; and the tops of many of the bushes, along 
the river's margin, barely emerged from the stream. 
Large spaces of meadow are overflowed. 

There was a northwest-wind throughout the day; 
and as many clouds, the remnants of departed gloom, 
were scattered about the sky, the breeze was continu- 
ally blowing them across the sun. For the most part, 
fchey were gone again in a moment ; but sometimes the 
shadow remained long enough to make me dread a re- 
turn of sulky weather. Then would come the burst of 
sunshine, making me feel as if a rainy day were hence- 
forth an impossibility. . . . 

In the afternoon Mr. Emerson called, bringing Mr. 

. He is a good sort of humdrum parson enough, 

and well fitted to increase the stock of manuscript ser- 
mons, of which there must be a fearful quantity al- 
ready in the world. Mr. , however, is probably 

one of the best and most useful of his class, because no 
suspicion of the necessity of his profession, constituted 
as it now is, to mankind, and of his own usefulness 
and success in it, has hitherto disturbed him ; and 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 317 

therefore, lie labors with faith and confidence, as min- 
isters did a hundred years ago. 

After the visitors were gone, I sat at the gallery- 
window, looking down the avenue ; and soon there ap- 
peared an elderly woman, — a homely, decent old ma- 
tron, dressed in a dark gown, and with what seemed a 
manuscript book under her arm. The wind sported 
with her gown, and blew her veil across her face, and 
seemed to make game of her, though on a nearer view 
she looked like a sad old creature, with a pale, thin 
countenance, and somewhat of a wild and wandering 
expression. She had a singular gait, reeling, as it were, 
and yet not quite reeling, from one side of the path to 
the other ; going onward as if it were not much matter 
whether she went straight or crooked. Such were my 
observations as she approached through the scattered 
sunshine and shade of our long avenue, until, reaching 
the door, she gave a knock, and inquired for the lady 
of the house. Her manuscript contained a certificate, 
stating that the old woman was a widow from a for- 
eign land, who had recently lost her son, and was now 
utterly destitute of friends and kindred, and without 
means of support. Appended to the certificate there 
was a list of names of people who had bestowed char- 
ity on her, with the amounts of the several dona- 
tions, — none, as I recollect, higher than twenty-five 
cents. Here is a strange life, and a character fit for 
romance and poetry. All the early part of her life, I 
suppose, and much of her widowhood, were spent in 
the quiet of a home, with kinsfolk around her, and 
children, and the lifelong gossiping acquaintances that 
some women always create about them. But in her de- 
cline she has wandered away from all these, and from 
her native country itself, and is a vagrant, yet with 



318 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

something of the homeliness and decency of aspect be- 
longing to one who has been a wife and mother, and 
has had a roof of her own above her head, — and, with 
all this, a wildness proper to her present life. I have 
a liking for vagrants of all sorts, and never, that I 
know of, refused my mite to a wandering beggar, when 
I had anything in my own pocket. There is so much 
wretchedness in the world, that we may safely take the 
word of any mortal professing to need our assistance ; 
and, even should we be deceived, still the good to our- 
selves resulting from a kind act is worth more than 
the trifle by which we purchase it. It is desirable, I 
think, that such persons should be permitted to roam 
through our land of plenty, scattering the seeds of ten- 
derness and charity, as birds of passage bear the seeds 
of precious plants from land to land, without even 
dreaming of the office which they perform. 

Thursday, September 1st. — Mr. Thoreau dined 
with us yesterday. . . . He is a keen and delicate ob- 
server of nature, — a genuine observer, — which, I 
suspect, is almost as rare a character as even an orig- 
inal poet ; and Nature, in return for his love, seems to 
adopt him as her especial child, and shows him secrets 
which few others are allowed to witness. He is famil- 
iar with beast, fish, fowl, and reptile, and has strange 
stories to tell of adventures and friendly passages with 
these lower brethren of mortality. Herb and flower, 
likewise, wherever they grow, whether in garden or 
wildwood, are his familiar friends. He is also on in- 
timate terms with the clouds, and can tell the portents 
of storms. It is a characteristic trait, that he has a 
great regard for the memory of the Indian tribes, 
whose wild life would have suited him so well ; and, 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 319 

strange to say, he seldom walks over a ploughed field 
without picking up an arrow-point, spear-head, or other 
relic of the red man, as if their spirits willed him to be 
the inheritor of their simple wealth. 

With all this he has more than a tincture of litera- 
ture, — a deep and true taste for poetry, especially for 
the elder poets, and he is a good writer, — at least he 
has written a good article, a rambling disquisition on 
Natural History, in the last " Dial," which, he says, 
was chiefly made up from journals of his own observa- 
tions. Methinks this article gives a very fair image of 
his mind and character, — so true, innate, and literal 
in observation, yet giving the spirit as well as letter of 
what he sees, even as a lake reflects its wooded banks, 
showing every leaf, yet giving the wild beauty of the 
whole scene. Then there are in the article passages 
of cloudy and dreamy metaphysics, and also passages 
where his thoughts seem to measure and attune them- 
selves into spontaneous verse, as they rightfully may, 
since there is real poetry in them. There is a basis 
of good sense and of moral truth, too, throughout the 
article, which also is a reflection of his character ; for 
he is not unwise to think and feel, and I find him a 
healthy and wholesome man to know. 

After dinner (at which we cut the first watermelon 
and muskmelon that our garden has grown), Mr. Tho- 
reau and I walked up the bank of the river, and at a 
certain point he shouted for his boat. Forthwith a 
young man paddled it across, and Mr. Thoreau and I 
voyaged farther up the stream, which soon became 
more beautiful than any picture, with its dark and 
quiet sheet of water, half shaded, half sunny, between 
high and wooded banks. The late rains have swollen 
the stream so much that many trees are standing up 



320 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

to their knees, as it were, in the water, and boughs, 
which lately swung high in air, now dip and drink 
deep of the passing wave. As to the poor cardinals 
which glowed upon the bank a few days since, I could 
see only a few of their scarlet hats, peeping above the 
tide. Mr. Thoreau managed the boat so perfectly, 
either with two paddles or with one, that it seemed in- 
stinct with his own will, and to require no physical 
effort to guide it. He said that, when some Indians 
visited Concord a few years ago, he found that he had 
acquired, without a teacher, their precise method of 
propelling and steering a canoe. Nevertheless he was 
desirous of selling the boat of which he was so fit a 
pilot, and which was built by his own hands ; so I 
agreed to take it, and accordingly became possessor of 
the Musketaquid. I wish I could acquire the aquatic 
skill of the original owner. 

September 2d. — Yesterday afternoon Mr. Thoreau 
arrived with the boat. The adjacent meadow being 
overflowed by the rise of the stream, he had rowed di- 
rectly to the foot of the orchard, and landed at the 
bars, after floating over forty or fifty yards of water 
where people were lately making hay. I entered the 
boat with him, in order to have the benefit of a lesson 
in rowing and paddling. ... I managed, indeed, to 
propel the boat by rowing with two oars, but the use 
of the single paddle is quite beyond my present skill. 
Mr. Thoreau had assured me that it was only neces- 
sary to will the boat to go in any particular direction, 
and she would immediately take that course, as if im- 
bued with the spirit of the steersman. It may be so 
with him, but it is certainly not so with me. The 
boat seemed to be bewitched, and turned its head to 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 321 

every point of the compass except the right one. He 
then took the paddle himself, and, though I could ob- 
serve nothing peculiar in his management of it, the 
Musketaquid immediately became as docile as a trained 
steed. I suspect that she has not yet transferred her 
affections from her old master to her new one. By 
and by, when we are better acquainted, she will grow 
more tractable. . . . We propose to change her name 
from Musketaquid (the Indian name of the Concord 
Eiver, meaning the river of meadows) to the Pond- 
Lily, which will be very beautiful and appropriate, as, 
during the summer season, she will bring home many 
a cargo of pond-lilies from along the river's weedy 
shore. It is not very likely that I shall make such 
long voyages in her as Mr. Thoreau has made. He 
once followed our river down to the Merrimack, and 
thence, I believe, to Newburyport in this little craft. 

In the evening, called to see us, wishing 

to talk with me about a Boston periodical, of which he 
had heard that I was to be editor, and to which he 
desired to contribute. He is an odd and clever young 
man, with nothing very peculiar about him, — some 
originality and self - inspiration in his character, but 
none, or, very little, in his intellect. Nevertheless, the 
lad himself seems to feel as if he were a genius. I 
like him well enough, however; but, after all, these 
originals in a small way, after one has seen a few of 
them, become more dull and commonplace than even 
those who keep the ordinary pathway of life. They 
have a rule and a routine, which they follow with as 
little variety as other people do their rule and routine ; 
and when once we have fathomed their mystery, noth- 
ing can be more wearisome. An innate perception 

VOL. IX. 31 



322 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

and reflection of truth give the only sort of originality 
that does not finally grow intolerable. 

September \th. — I made a voyage in the Pond- 
Lily all by myself yesterday morning, and was much 
encouraged by my success in causing the boat to go, 
whither I would. I have always liked to be afloat, 
but I think I have never adequately conceived of the 
enjoyment till now, when I begin to feel a power over 
that which supports me. I suppose I must have felt 
something like this sense of triumph when I first 
learned to swim ; but I have forgotten it. Oh that I 
could run wild ! — that is, that I could put myself 
into a true relation with Nature, and be on friendly 
terms with all congenial elements. 

We had a thunder-storm last evening; and to-day 
has been a cool, breezy, autumnal day, such as my soul 
and body love. 

September V&th. — How the summer-time flits aw.ay, 
even while it seems to be loitering onward, arm in arm 
with autumn ! Of late I have walked but little over 
the hills and through the woods, my leisure being 
chiefly occupied with my boat, which I have now 
learned to manage with tolerable skill. Yesterday 
afternoon I made a voyage alone up the North Branch 
of Concord River. There was a strong west-wind 
blowing dead against me, which, together with the 
current, increased by the height of the water, made 
the first part of the passage pretty toilsome. The 
black river was all dimpled over with little eddies and 
whirlpools ; and the breeze, moreover, caused the bil- 
lows to beat against the bow of the boat, with a sound 
like the flapping of a bird's wing. The water-weeds, 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 323 

where they were discernible through the tawny water, 
were straight outstretched by the force of the current, 
looking as if they were forced to hold on to their roots 
with all their might. If for a moment I desisted from 
paddling, the head of the boat was swept round by the 
combined might of wind and tide. However, I toiled 
onward stoutly, and, entering the North Branch, soon 
found myself floating quietly along a tranquil stream, 
sheltered from the breeze by the woods and a lofty 
hill. The current, likewise, lingered along so gently 
that it was merely a pleasure to propel the boat against 
it. I never could have conceived that there was so 
beautiful a river-scene in Concord as this of the North 
Branch. The stream flows through the midmost pri- 
vacy and deepest heart of a wood, which, as if but half 
satisfied with its presence, calm, gentle, and unobtru- 
sive as it is, seems to crowd upon it, and barely to al- 
low it passage ; for the trees are rooted on the very 
verge of the water, and dip their pendent branches 
into. it. On one side there is a high bank, forming 
the side of a hill, the Indian name of which I have 
forgotten, though Mr. Thoreau told it to me ; and here, 
in some instances, the trees stand leaning over the 
river, stretching out their arms as if about to plunge 
in headlong. On the other side, the bank is almost 
on a level with the water ; and there the quiet congre- 
gation of trees stood with feet in the flood, and fringed 
with foliage down to its very surface. Vines here and 
there twine themselves about bushes or aspens or alder- 
trees, and hang their clusters (though scanty and in- 
frequent this season) so that I can reach them from 
my boat. I scarcely remember a scene of more com- 
plete and lovely seclusion than the passage of the river 
through this wood. Even an Indian canoe, in olden 



324 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

times, could not have floated onward in deeper soli- 
tude than my boat. I have never elsewhere had such 
an opportunity to observe how much more beautiful 
reflection is than what we call reality. The sky, and 
the clustering foliage on either hand, and the effect of 
sunlight as it found its way through the shade, giv- 
ing lightsome hues in contrast with the quiet depth of 
the prevailing tints, — all these seemed unsurpassably 
beautiful when beheld in upper air. But on gazing 
downward, there they were, the same even to the mi- 
nutest particular, yet arrayed in ideal beauty, which 
satisfied the spirit incomparably more than the actual 
scene. I am half convinced that the reflection is in- 
deed the reality, the real thing which Nature imper- 
fectly images to our grosser sense. At any rate, the 
disembodied shadow is nearest to the soul. 

There were many tokens of autumn in this beauti- 
ful picture. Two or three of the trees were actually 
dressed in their coats of many colors, — the real scar- 
let and gold which they wear before they put on 
mourning. These stood on low, marshy spots, where 
a frost has probably touched them already. Others 
were of a light, fresh green, resembling the hues of 
spring, though this, likewise, is a token of decay. 
The great mass of the foliage, however, appears un- 
changed ; but ever and anon down came a yellow leaf, 
half flitting upon the air, half falling through it, and 
finally settling upon the water. A multitude of these 
were floating here and there along the river, many of 
them curling upward, so as to form little boats, fit for 
fairies to voyage in. They looked strangely pretty, 
with yet a melancholy prettiness, as they floated along. 
The general aspect of the river, however, differed but 
little from that of summer, — at least the difference 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 325 

defies expression. It is more in the character of the 
rich yellow sunlight than in aught else. The water of 
the stream has now a thrill of autumnal coolness •, yet 
whenever a broad gleam fell across it, through an in- 
terstice of the foliage, multitudes of insects were dart- 
ing to and fro upon its surface. The sunshine, thus 
falling across the dark river, has a most beautiful ef- 
fect. It burnishes it, as it were, and yet leaves it as 
dark as ever. 

On my return, I suffered the boat to float almost of 
its own will down the stream, and caught fish enough 
for this morning's breakfast. But, partly from a 
qualm of conscience, I finally put them all into the 
water again, and saw them swim away as if nothing 
had happened. 

Monday, October 10th. — A long while, indeed, 
since my last date. But the weather has been gener- 
ally sunny and pleasant, though often very cold ; and 
I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as au- 
tumnal sunshine by staying in the house. So I have 
spent almost all the daylight hours in the open air. 
My chief amusement has been boating up and down 
the river. A week or two ago (September 27 and 
28) I went on a pedestrian excursion with Mr. Emer- 
son, and was gone two days and one night, it being 
the first and only night that I have spent away from 
home. We were that night at the village of Harvard, 
and the next morning walked three miles farther, to 
the Shaker village, where we breakfasted. Mr. Emer- 
son had a theological discussion with two of the 
Shaker brethren ; but the particulars of it have faded 
from my memory ; and all the other adventures of the 
tour have now so lost their freshness that I cannot ad- 



326 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

equately recall them. Wherefore let them rest un- 
told. I recollect nothing so well as the aspect of 
some fringed gentians, which we saw growing by the 
roadside, and which were so beautiful that I longed to 
turn back and pluck them. After an arduous jour- 
ney, we arrived safe home in the afternoon of the sec- 
ond day, — the first time that I ever came home in my 
life ; for I never had a home before. On Saturday of 

the same week, my friend D. R came to see us, 

and stayed till Tuesday morning. On Wednesday 
there was a cattle-show in the village, of which I 
would give a description, if it had possessed any pict- 
uresque points. The foregoing are the chief outward 
events of our life. 

In the mean time autumn has been advancing, and 
is said to be a month earlier than usual. We had 
frosts, sufficient to kill the bean and squash vines, 
more than a fortnight ago ; but there has since been 
some of the most delicious Indian - summer weather 
that I ever experienced, — mild, sweet, perfect days, 
in which the warm sunshine seemed to embrace the 
earth and all earth's children with love and tender- 
ness. Generally, however, the bright days have been 
vexed with winds from the northwest, somewhat too 
keen and high for comfort. These winds have strewn 
our avenue with withered leaves, although the trees 
still retain some density of foliage, which is now im- 
browned or otherwise variegated by autumn. Our ap- 
ples, too, have been falling, falling, falling : and we 
have picked the fairest of them from the dewy grass, 
and put them in our store-room and elsewhere. On 
Thursday, John Flint began to gather those which re- 
mained on the trees ; and I suppose they will amount 
to nearly twenty barrels, or perhaps more. As usual 



1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 327 

when I have anything to sell, apples are very low in- 
deed in price, and will not fetch me more than a dol- 
lar a barrel. I have sold my share of the potato-field 
for twenty dollars and ten bushels of potatoes for my 
own use. This may suffice for the economical history 
of our recent life. 

12 o'clock, M. — Just now I heard a sharp tapping 
at the window of my study, and, looking up from my 
book (a volume of Rabelais), behold ! the head of a 
little bird, who seemed to demand admittance ! He 
was probably attempting to get a fly, which was on the 
pane of glass against which he rapped ; and on my 
first motion the feathered visitor took wing. This in- 
cident had a curious effect on me. It impressed me 
as if the bird had been a spiritual visitant, so strange 
was it that this little wild thing should seem to ask 
our hospitality. 

November 8th. — I am sorry that our journal has 
fallen so into neglect ; but I see no chance of amend- 
ment. All my scribbling propensities will be far more 
than gratified in writing nonsense for the press; so 
that any gratuitous labor of the pen becomes pecul- 
iarly distasteful. Since the last date, we have paid a 
visit of nine days to Boston and Salem, whence we re- 
turned a week ago yesterday. Thus we lost above a 
week of delicious autumnal weather, which should have 
been spent in the woods or upon the river. Ever since 
our return, however, until to-day, there has been a 
succession of genuine Indian - summer days, with gen- 
tle winds, or none at all, and a misty atmosphere, 
which idealizes all nature, and a mild, beneficent sun- 
shine, inviting one to lie down in a nook and forget 



328 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1842. 

all earthly care. To-day the sky is dark and lower, 
ing, and occasionally lets fall a few sullen tears. I 
suppose we must bid farewell to Indian summer now, 
and expect no more love and tenderness from Mother 
Nature till next spring be well advanced. She has 
already made herself as unlovely in outward aspect as 
can well be. We took a walk to Sleepy Hollow yes- 
terday, and beheld scarcely, a green thing, except the 
everlasting verdure of the family of pines, which, in- 
deed, are trees to thank God for at this season. A 
range of young birches had retained a pretty liberal 
coloring of yeEow or tawny leaves, which became very 
cheerful in the sunshine. There were one or two oak- 
trees whose foliage still retained a deep, dusky red, 
which looked rich and warm ; but most of the oaks 
had reached the last stage of autumnal decay, — the 
dusky brown hue. Millions of their leaves strew the 
woods and rustle underneath the foot ; but enough re- 
main upon the boughs to make a melancholy harping 
when the wind sweeps over them. We found some 
fringed gentians in the meadow, most of them blighted 
and withered ; but a few were quite perfect. The 
other day, since our return from Salem, I found a vio- 
let ; yet it was so cold that day, that a large pool of 
water, under the shadow of some trees, had remained 
frozen from morning till afternoon. The ice was so 
thick as not to be broken by some sticks and small 
stones which I threw upon it. But ice and snow too 
will soon be no extraordinary matters with us. 

During the last week we have had three stoves put 
up, and henceforth no light of a cheerful fire will glad- 
den us at eventide. Stoves are detestable in every 
respect, except that they keep us perfectly comfort- 
able. 



1848.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 329 

Thursday, November 24ttli. — This is Thanksgiving 
Day, a good old festival, and we have kept it with our 
hearts, and, besides, have made good cheer upon our 
turkey and pudding, and pies and custards, although 
none sat at our board but our two selves. There was 
a new and livelier sense, I think, that we have at last 
found a home, and that a new family has been gath- 
ered since the last Thanksgiving Day. There have 
been many bright, cold days latterly, — so cold that it 
has required a pretty rapid pace to keep one's self 
warm a-walking. Day before yesterday I saw a party 
of boys skating on a pond of water that has overflowed 
a neighboring meadow. Running water has not yet 
frozen. Vegetation has quite come to a stand, except 
in a few sheltered spots. In a deep ditch we found a 
tall plant of the freshest and healthiest green, which 
looked as if it must have grown within the last few 
weeks. We wander among the wood-paths, which are 
very pleasant in the sunshine of the afternoons, the 
trees looking rich and warm, — such of them, I mean, 
as have retained their russet leaves ; and where the 
leaves are strewn along the paths, or heaped plenti- 
fully in some hollow of the hills, the effect is not with- 
out a charm. To-day the morning rose with rain, 
which has since changed to snow and sleet ; and now 
the landscape is as dreary as can well be imagined, 
— white, with the brownness of the soil and withered 
grass everywhere peeping out. The swollen river, of 
a leaden hue, drags itself sullenly along; and this may 
be termed the first winter's day. 

Friday, March 31s£, 1843. — The first month of 
spring is already gone ; and still the snow lies deep on 
hill and valley, and the river is still frozen from bank 



330 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

to bank, although a late rain has caused pools of water 
to stand on the surface of the ice, and the meadows 
are overflowed into broad lakes. Such a protracted 
winter has not been known for twenty years, at least. 
I have almost forgotten the wood -paths and shady 
places which I used to know so well last summer ; and 
my views are so much confined to the interior of our 
mansion, that sometimes, looking out of the window, 
I am surprised to catch a glimpse of houses, at no 
great distance, which had quite passed out of my rec- 
ollection. From present appearances, another month 
may scarcely suffice to wash away all the snow from 
the open country ; and in the woods and hollows it 
may linger yet longer. The winter will not have been 
a day less than five months long ; and it would not be 
unfair to call it seven. A great space, indeed, to miss 
the smile of Nature, in a single year of human life. 
Even out of the midst of happiness I have sometimes 
sighed and groaned ; for I love the sunshine and the 
green woods, and the sparkling blue water; and it 
seems as if the picture of our inward bliss should be 
set in a beautiful frame of outward nature. ... As to 
the daily course of our life, I have written with pretty 
commendable diligence, averaging from two to four 
hours a day ; and the result is seen in various maga- 
zines. I might have written more, if it had seemed 
worth while, but I was content to earn only so much 
gold as might suffice for our immediate wants, having 
prospect of official station and emolument which would 
do away with the necessity of writing for bread. Those 
prospects have not yet had their fulfilment ; and we 
are well content to wait, because an office would inev- 
itably remove us from our present happy home, — at 
least from an outward home ; for there is an inner one 



1843.] AMERICAN NOTEBOOKS. 331 

that will accompany us wherever we go. Meantime, 
the magazine people do not pay their debts ; so that 
we taste some of the inconveniences of poverty. It is 
an annoyance, not a trouble. 

Every day, I trudge through snow and slosh to the 
village, look into the post-office, and spend an hour at 
the reading - room ; and then return home, generally 
without having spoken a word to a human being. . . „ 
In the way of exercise I saw and split wood, and, phys- 
ically, I never was in a better condition than now. 
This is chiefly owing, doubtless, to a satisfied heart, in 
aid of which comes the exercise above mentioned, and 
about a fair proportion of intellectual labor. 

On the 9th of this month, we left home again on a 
visit to Boston and Salem. I alone went to Salem, 
where I resumed all my bachelor habits for nearly a 
fortnight, leading the same life in which ten years of 
my youth flitted away like a dream. But how much 
changed was I ! At last I had caught hold of a real- 
ity which never could be taken from me. It was good 
thus to get apart from my happiness, for the sake of 
contemplating it. On the 21st, I returned to Boston, 
and went out to Cambridge to dine with Longfellow, 
whom I had not seen since his return from Europe. 
The next day we came back to our old house, which 
had been deserted all this time ; for our servant had 
gone with us to Boston. 

Friday, April 1th. — My wife has gone to Boston 

to see her sister M , who is to be married in two 

or three weeks, and then immediately to visit Europe 
for six months. ... I betook myself to sawing and 
splitting wood ; there being an inward unquietness 
which demanded active exercise, and I sawed, I think, 



332 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

more briskly than ever before. When I reentered 
the house, it was with somewhat of a desolate feeling ; 
yet not without an intermingled pleasure, as being the 
more conscious that all separation was temporary, and 
scarcely real, even for the little time that it may last. 
After my solitary dinner, I lay down, with the " Dial '* 
in my hand, and attempted to sleep ; but sleep would 
not come. ... So I arose, and began this record in the 
journal, almost at the commencement of which I was 
interrupted by a visit from Mr. Thoreau, who came to 
return a book, and to announce his purpose of going to 
reside at Staten Island, as private tutor in the family 
of Mr. Emerson's brother. We had some conversation 
upon this subject, and upon the spiritual advantages 
of change of place, and upon the "Dial," and upon 
Mr. Alcott, and other kindred or concatenated sub- 
jects. I am glad, on Mr. Thoreau's own account, that 
he is going away, as he is out of health, and may be 
benefited by his removal ; but, on my account, I should 
like to have him remain here, he being one of the few 
persons, I think, with whom to hold intercourse is like 
hearing the wind among the boughs of a forest-tree ; 
and, with all this wild freedom, there is high and 
classic cultivation in him too. . . . 

I had a purpose, if circumstances would permit, of 
passing the whole term of my wife's absence without 
speaking a word to any human being ; but now my 
Pythagorean vow has been broken, within three or 
four hours after her departure. 

Saturday, April 8th. — After journalizing yester- 
day afternoon, I went out and sawed and split wood 
till tea-time, then studied German (translating "Le- 
nore"), with an occasional glance at a beautiful sun- 



1843.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 333 

set, which I could not enjoy sufficiently by myself to 
induce me to lay aside the book. After lamplight, fin- 
ished "Lenore," and drowsed over Voltaire's "Can- 
dide," occasionally refreshing myself with a tune from 
Mr. Thoreau's musical-box, which he had left in my 
keeping. The evening was but a dull one. 

I retired soon after nine, and felt some apprehen- 
sion that the old Doctor's ghost would take this op- 
portunity to visit me ; but I rather think his former 
visitations have not been intended for me, and that I 
am not sufficiently spiritual for ghostly communication. 
At all events, I met with no disturbance of the kind, 
and slept soundly enough till six o'clock or thereabouts. 
The forenoon was spent with the pen in my hand, and 
sometimes I had the glimmering of an idea, and en- 
deavored to materialize it in words ; but on the whole 
my mind was idly vagrant, and refused to work to any 
systematic purpose. Between eleven and twelve I 
went to the post-office, but found no letter ; then spent 
above an hour reading at the Athenaeum. On my 
way home, I encountered Mr. Flint, for the first time 
these many weeks, although he is our next neighbor in 
one direction. I inquired if he could sell us some 
potatoes, and he promised to send half a bushel for 
trial. Also, he encouraged me to hope that he might 
buy a barrel of our apples. After my encounter with 
Mr. Flint, I returned to our lonely old abbey, opened 
the door without the usual heart-spring, ascended to 
my study, and began to read a tale of Tieck. Slow 
work, and dull work too ! Anon, Molly, the cook, 
rang the bell for dinner, — a sumptuous banquet of 
stewed veal and macaroni, to which I sat down in 
solitary state. My appetite served me sufficiently to 
eat with, but not for enjoyment. Nothing has a zest 



334 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

in my present widowed state. [Thus far I had writ- 
ten, when Mr. Emerson called.] After dinner, I lay 
down on the couch, with the " Dial " in my hand as 
a soporific, and had a short nap ; then began to jour- 
nalize. 

Mr. Emerson came, with a sunbeam in his face ; 
and we had as good a talk as I ever remember to have 
had with him. He spoke of Margaret Fuller, who, he 
says, has risen perceptibly into a higher state since 
their last meeting. [There rings the tea-bell.] Then 
we discoursed of Ellery Channing, a volume of whose 
poems is to be immediately published, with revisions 
by Mr. Emerson himself and Mr. Sam G. Ward. . . . 
He calls them " poetry for poets." Next Mr. Thoreau 
was discussed, and his approaching departure ; in re- 
spect to which we agreed pretty well. . . . We talked 
of Brook Farm, and the singular moral aspects which 
it presents, and the great desirability that its progress 
and developments should be observed and its history 

written ; also of C. N , who, it appears, is passing 

through a new moral phasis. He is silent, inexpres- 
sive, talks little or none, and listens without response, 
except a sardonic laugh ; and some of his friends 
think that he is passing into permanent eclipse. Va- 
rious other matters were considered or glanced at, and 
finally, between five and six o'clock, Mr. Emerson 
took his leave. I then went out to chop wood, my 
allotted space for which had been very much abridged 
by his visit ; but I was not sorry. I went on with the 
journal for a few minutes before tea, and have finished 
the present record in the setting sunshine and gather- 
ing dusk. . . . 

Salem. — ... Here I am, in my old chamber, 



1843.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 335 

where I produced those stupendous works of fiction 
which have since impressed the universe with wonder- 
ment and awe! To this chamber, doubtless, in all 
succeeding ages, pilgrims will come to pay their trib° 
ute of reverence ; they will put off their shoes at the 
threshold for fear of desecrating the tattered old car- 
pets ! " There," they will exclaim, " is the very bed 
in which he slumbered, and where he was visited by 
those ethereal visions which he afterwards fixed for- 
ever in glowing words ! There is the wash-stand at 
which this exalted personage cleansed himself from 
the stains of earth, and rendered his outward man a 
fitting exponent of the pure soul within. There, in 
its mahogany frame, is the dressing-glass, which often 
reflected that noble brow, those hyacinthine locks, that 
mouth bright with smiles or tremulous with feeling, 
that flashing or melting eye, that — in short, every 
item of the magnanimous face of this unexampled 
man. There is the pine table, — there the old flag- 
bottomed chair on which he sat, and at which he 
scribbled, during his agonies of inspiration ! There 
is the old chest of drawers in which he kept what 
shirts a poor author may be supposed to have pos- 
sessed ! There is the closet in which was reposited 
his threadbare suit of black ! There is the worn-out 
shoe-brush with which this polished writer polished 
his boots. There is " — but I believe this will be 
pretty much all, so here I close the catalogue. . . . 

A cloudy veil stretches over the abyss of my nature. 
I have, however, no love of secrecy and darkness. I 
am glad to think that God sees through my heart, 
and, if any angel has power to penetrate into it, he is 
welcome to know everything that is there. Yes, and 
so may any mortal who is capable of full sympathy, 



336 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

and therefore worthy to come into my depths. But 
he must find his own way there. I can neither guide 
nor enlighten him. It is this involuntary reserve, I 
suppose, that has given the objectivity to my writings ; 
and when people think that I am pouring myself out 
in a tale or an essay, I am merely telling what is com- 
mon to human nature, not what is peculiar to myselfc 
I sympathize with them, not they with me. . . . 

I have recently been both lectured about and 
preached about here in my native city ; the preacher 
was Rev. Mr. Fox, of Newburyport ; but how he con- 
trived to put me into a sermon I know not. I trust 
he took for his text, " Behold an Israelite indeed, in 
whom there is no guile." 

Salem, March 12th. — . • . That poor home ! how 
desolate it is now! Last night, being awake, . . . 
my thoughts travelled back to the lonely old manse ; 
and it seemed as if I were wandering up stairs and 
down stairs all by myself. My fancy was almost 
afraid to be there alone. I could see every object in 
a dim, gray light, — our chamber, the study, all in con- 
fusion ; the parlor, with the fragments of that abortive 
breakfast on the table, and the precious silver forks, and 
the old bronze image, keeping its solitary stand upon 
the mantel-piece. Then, methought, the wretched Vig- 
wiggie came, and jumped upon the window-sill, and 
clung there with her fore paws, mewing dismally for 
admittance, which I could not grant her, being there 
myself only in the spirit. And then came the ghost 
of the old Doctor, stalking through the gallery, and 
down the staircase, and peeping into the parlor ; and 
though I was wide awake, and conscious of being so 
many miles from the spot, still it was quite awful to 



1843J AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 337 

think of the ghost having sole possession of our home ; 
for I could not quite separate myself from it, after all. 
Somehow the Doctor and I seemed to be there tete-d- 
tSte. ... I believe I did not have any fantasies about 
the ghostly kitchen-maid ; but I trust Mary left the 
flat-irons within her reach, so that she may do all her 
ironing while we are away, and never disturb us more 
at midnight. I suppose she comes thither to iron her 
shroud, and perhaps, likewise, to smooth the Doctor's 
band. Probably, during her lifetime, she allowed him 
to go to some ordination or other grand clerical cele- 
bration with rumpled linen ; and ever since, and 
throughout all earthly futurity (at least, as long as 
the house shall stand), she is doomed to exercise a 
nightly toil with a spiritual flat-iron. Poor sinner ! — 
and doubtless Satan heats the irons for her. What 
nonsense is all this ! but, really, it does make me 
shiver to think of that poor home of ours. 

March 16th. — ... As for this Mr. , I wish 

he would not be so troublesome. His scheme is well 
enough, and might possibly become popular ; but it 
has no peculiar advantages with reference to myself, 
nor do the subjects of his proposed books particularly 
suit my fancy as themes to write upon. Somebody 
else will answer his purpose just as well ; and I would 
rather write books of my own imagining than be hired 
to develop the ideas of an engraver ; especially as the 
pecuniary prospect is not better, nor so good, as it 
might be elsewhere. I intend to adhere to my former 
plan of writing one or two mythological story-books, 
to be published under O' Sullivan's auspices in New 
York, — which is the only place where books can be 
published with a chance of profit. As a matter of 

vol.. ix. 22 



338 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

courtesy, I may call on Mr. if I have time ; but 

I do not intend to be connected with this affair. 

Sunday, April 9th. — ... After finishing my rec- 
ord in the journal, I sat a long time in grandmother's 
chair, thinking of many things. . . . My spirits were 
at a lower ebb than they ever descend to when I am 
not alone ; nevertheless, neither was I absolutely sad. 
Many times I wound and re-wound Mr. Thoreau's little 
musical-box ; but certainly its peculiar sweetness had 
evaporated, and I am pretty sure that I should throw 
it out of the window were I doomed to hear it long 
and often. It has not an infinite soul. When it was 
almost as dark as the moonlight would let it be, I 
lighted the lamp, and went on with Tieck's tale, slowly 
and painfully, often wishing for help in my difficulties. 
At last I determined to learn a little about pronouns 
and verbs before proceeding further, and so took up 
the phrase-book, with which I was commendably busy, 
when, at about a quarter to nine, came a knock at my 
study door, and, behold, there was Molly with a letter ! 
How she came by it I did not ask, being content to 
suppose it was brought by a heavenly messenger. I 
had not expected a letter ; and what a comfort it was 
to me in my loneliness and sombreness ! I called 
Molly to take her note (enclosed), which she received 
with a face of delight as broad and bright as the 
kitchen fire. Then I read, and re-read, and re-re-read, 
and quadruply, quintuply, and sextuply re-read my 
epistle, until I had it all by heart, and then continued 
to re-read it for the sake of the penmanship. Then I 
took up the phrase-book again ; but could not study, 
and so bathed and retired, it being now not far from 
ten o'clock. I lay awake a good deal in the night, but 
saw no ghost. 






1843.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 339 

I arose about seven, and found that the upper part 
of my nose, and the region round about, was griev- 
ously discolored ; and at the angle of the left eye 
there is a great spot of almost black purple, and a 
broad streak of the same hue semicircling beneath 
either eye, while green, yellow, and orange overspread 
the circumjacent country. It looks not unlike a gor- 
geous sunset, throwing its splendor over the heaven of 
my countenance. It will behoove me to show myself 
as little as possible, else people will think I have 
fought a pitched battle. . . . The Devil take the stick 
of wood ! What had I done, that it should bemaul 
me so ? However, there is no pain, though, I think y 
a very slight affection of the eyes. 

This forenoon I began to write, and caught an idea 
by the skirts, which I intend to hold fast, though it 
struggles to get free. As it was not ready to be put 
upon paper, however, I took up the " Dial," and fin- 
ished reading the article on Mr. Alcott. It is not very 
satisfactory, and it has not taught me much. Then 
I read Margaret's article on Canova, which is good. 
About this time the dinner-bell rang, and I went down 
without much alacrity, though with a good appetite 
enough. ... It was in the angle of my right eye, not 
my left, that the blackest purple was collected. But 
they both look like the very Devil. 

Half past Jive o'clock. — After writing the above, 
... I again set to work on Tieck's tale, and worried 
through several pages ; and then, at half past four, 
threw open one of the western windows of my study, 
and sallied forth to take the sunshine. I went down 
through the orchard to the river-side. The orchard- 
path is still deeply covered with snow ; and so is the 



340 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

whole visible universe, except streaks upon the hill- 
sides, and spots in the sunny hollows, where the brown 
earth peeps through. The river, which a few days ago 
was entirely imprisoned, has now broken its fetters ; 
but a tract of ice extended across from near the foot of 
the monument to the abutment of the old bridge, and 
looked so solid that I supposed it would yet remain for 
a day or two. Large cakes and masses of ice came 
floating down the current, which, though not very vio- 
lent, hurried along at a much swifter pace than the or- 
dinary one of our sluggish river-god. These ice-masses, 
when they struck the barrier of ice above mentioned, 
acted upon it like a battering-ram, and were them- 
selves forced high out of the water, or sometimes car- 
ried beneath the main sheet of ice. At last, down the 
stream came an immense mass of ice, and, striking the 
barrier about at its centre, it gave way, and the whole 
was swept onward together, leaving the river entirely 
free, with only here and there a cake of ice floating 
quietly along. The great accumulation, in its down- 
ward course, hit against a tree that stood in mid-cur- 
rent, and caused it to quiver like a reed ; and it swept 
quite over the shrubbery that bordered what, in sum- 
mer-time, is the river's bank, but which is now nearly 
the centre of the stream. Our river in its present state 
has quite a noble breadth. The little hillock which 
formed the abutment of the old bridge is now an isl- 
and with its tuft of trees. Along the hither shore a 
row of trees stand up to their knees, and the smaller 
ones to their middles, in the water ; and afar off, on 
the surface of the stream, we see tufts of bushes 
emerging, thrusting up their heads, as it were, to 
breathe. The water comes over the stone-wall, and 
encroaches several yards on the boundaries of our ob 



1843.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 341 

chard. [Here the supper -bell rang.] If our boat 
were in good order, I should now set forth on voyages 
of discovery, and visit nooks on the borders of the 
meadows, which by and by will be a mile or two from 
the water's edge. But she is in very bad condition, 
full of water, and, doubtless, as leaky as a sieve. 

On coming from supper, I found that little Puss 
had established herself in the study, probably with in- 
tent to pass the night here. She now lies on the foot- 
stool between my feet> purring most obstreperously. 
The day of my wife's departure, she came to me, talk- 
ing with the greatest earnestness ; but whether it was 
to condole with me on my loss, or to demand my re- 
doubled care for herself, I could not well make out. 
As Puss now constitutes a third part of the family, 
this mention of her will not appear amiss. How Molly 
employs herself, I know not. Once in a while, I hear 
a door slam like a thunder-clap ; but she never shows 
her face, nor speaks a word, unless to announce a vis- 
itor or deliver a letter. This day, on my part, will 
have been spent without exchanging a syllable with 
any human being, unless something unforeseen should 
yet call for the exercise of speech before bedtime. 

Monday, April 10th. — I sat till eight o'clock, med- 
itating upon this world and the next, . . . and some- 
times dimly shaping out scenes of a tale. Then be- 
took myself to the German phrase-book. Ah ! these 
are but dreary evenings. The lamp would not 
brighten my spirits, though it was duly filled. . . . 
This forenoon was spent in scribbling, by no means to 
my satisfaction, until past eleven, when I went to the 
village. Nothing in our box at the post-office. I read 
during the customary hour, or more, at the Athe- 



342 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

nseum, and returned without saying a word to mortal. 
I gathered from some conversation that I heard, that 
a son of Adam is to be buried this afternoon from the 
meeting-house ; but the name of the deceased escaped 
me. It is no great matter, so it be but written in the 
Book of Life. 

My variegated face looks somewhat more human to- 
day ; though I was unaffectedly ashamed to meet any- 
body's gaze, and therefore turned my back or my 
shoulder as much as possible upon the world. At din- 
ner, behold an immense joint of roast veal ! I would 
willingly have had some assistance in the discussion 
of this great piece of calf. I am ashamed to eat 
alone ; it becomes the mere gratification of animal ap- 
petite, — the tribute which we are compelled to pay 
to our grosser nature ; whereas, in the company of an- 
other it is refined and moralized and spiritualized; 
and over our earthly victuals (or rather vittles, for the 
former is a very foolish mode of spelling), — over our 
earthly vittles is diffused a sauce of lofty and gentle 
thoughts, and tough meat is mollified with tender feel- 
ings. But oh ! these solitary meals are the dismallest 
part of my present experience. When the company 
rose from table, they all, in my single person, ascended 
to the study, and employed themselves in reading the 
article on Oregon in the " Democratic Review." Then 
they plodded onward in the rugged and bewildering 
depths of Tieck's tale until five o'clock, when, with one 
accord, they went out to split wood. This has been 
a gray day, with now and then a sprinkling of snow- 
flakes through the air. . . . To-day no more than yes- 
terday have I spoken a word to mortal. ... It is now 
sunset, and I must meditate till dark. 






1843.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 343 

April 11th. — I meditated accordingly, but without 
any very wonderful result. Then at eight o'clock 
bothered myself till after nine with this eternal tale of 
Tieck. The forenoon was spent in scribbling ; but at 
eleven o'clock my thoughts ceased to flow, — indeed, 
their current has been wofully interrupted all along, 
— so I threw down my pen, and set out on the daily 
journey to the village. Horrible walking ! I wasted 
the customary hour at the Athenaeum, and returned 
home, if home it may now be called. Till dinner-time 
1 labored on Tieck's tale, and resumed that agreeable 
employment after the banquet. 

Just when I was on the point of choking with a 
huge German word, Molly announced Mr. Thoreau. 
He wished to take a row in the boat, for the last time, 
perhaps, before he leaves Concord. So we emptied 
the water out of her, and set forth on our voyage. 
She leaks, but not more than she did in the autumn. 
We rowed to the foot of the hill which borders the 
North Branch, and there landed, and climbed the 
moist and snowy hill-side for the sake of the prospect. 
Looking down the river, it might well have been mis- 
taken for an arm of the sea, so broad is now its 
swollen tide ; and I could have fancied that, beyond 
one other headland, the mighty ocean would outspread 
itself before the eye. On our return we boarded a 
large cake of ice, which was floating down the river, 
and were borne by it directly to our own landing- 
place, with the boat towing behind. 

Parting with Mr. Thoreau, I spent half an hour in 
chopping wood, when Molly informed me that Mr. 
Emerson wished to see me. He had brought a letter 
of Ellery Channing, written in a style of very pleas- 
ant humor. This being read and discussed, together 



344 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

with a few other matters, lie took his leave, since which 
I have been attending to my journalizing duty ; and 
thus this record is brought down to the present mo- 
ment. 

April 25th. — Spring is advancing, sometimes with 
sunny days, and sometimes, as is the case now, with 
chill, moist, sullen ones. There is an influence in the 
season that makes it almost impossible for me to bring 
my mind down to literary employment ; perhaps be- 
cause several months' pretty constant work has ex- 
hausted that species of energy, — perhaps because in 
spring it is more natural to labor actively than to 
think. But my impulse now is to be idle altogether, 
■ — to lie in the sun, or wander about and look at the 
revival of Nature from her death-like slumber, or to 
be borne down the current of the river in my boat. 
If I had wings, I would gladly fly ; yet would prefer 
to be wafted along by a breeze, sometimes alighting 
on a patch of green grass, then gently whirled away 
to a still sunnier spot. . . . Oh, how blest should I be 
were there nothing to do ! Then I would watch every 
inch and hair's-breadth of the progress of the season ; 
and not a leaf should put itself forth, in the vicinity of 
our old mansion, without my noting it. But now, with 
the burden of a continual task upon me, I have not 
freedom of mind to make such observations. I merely 
see what is going on in a very general way. The 
snow, which, two or three weeks ago, covered hill and 
valley, is now diminished to one or two solitary specks 
in the visible landscape ; though doubtless there are 
still heaps of it in the shady places in the woods. 
There have been no violent rains to carry it off : it has 
diminished gradually, inch by inch, and day after day ; 



1843.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 345 

and I observed, along the roadside, that the green 
blades of grass had sometimes sprouted on the very 
edge of the snowdrift the moment that the earth was 
uncovered. 

The pastures and grass-fields have not yet a general 
effect of green ; nor have they that cheerless brown 
tint which they wear in later autumn, when vegetation 
has entirely ceased. There is now a suspicion of ver- 
dure, — the faint shadow of it, — but not the warm 
reality. Sometimes, in a happy exposure, — there is 
one such tract across the river, the carefully cultivated 
mowing-field, in front of an old red homestead, — 
such patches of land wear a beautiful and tender 
green, which no other season will equal ; because, let 
the grass be green as it may hereafter, it will not be so 
set off by surrounding barrenness. The trees in our 
orchard, and elsewhere, have as yet no leaves ; yet to 
the most careless eye they appear full of life and veg- 
etable blood. It seems as if, by one magic touch, 
they might instantaneously put forth all their foliage, 
and the wind, which now sighs through their naked 
branches, might all at once find itself impeded by in- 
numerable leaves. This sudden development would be 
scarcely more wonderful than the gleam of verdure 
which often brightens, in a moment, as it were, along 
the slope of a bank or roadside. It is like a gleam of 
sunlight. Just now it was brown, like the rest of the 
scenery: look again, and there is an apparition of 
green grass. The Spring, no doubt, comes onward 
with fleeter footsteps, because Winter has lingered so 
long that, at best, she can hardly retrieve half the al- 
lotted term of her reign. 

The river, this season, has encroached farther on 
the land than it has been known to do for twenty 



346 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

years past. It has formed along its course a succes- 
sion of lakes, with a current through the midst. My 
boat has lain at the bottom of the orchard, in very 
convenient proximity to the house. It has borne me 
over stone fences ; and, a few days ago, Ellery Chan- 
ning and I passed through two rails into the great 
northern road, along which we paddled for some dis- 
tance. The trees have a singular appearance in the 
midst of waters. The curtailment of their trunks 
quite destroys the proportions of the whole tree ; and 
we become conscious of a regularity and propriety in 
the forms of Nature, by the effect of this abbreviation. 
The waters are now subsiding, but gradually. Islands 
become annexed to the mainland, and other islands 
emerge from the flood, and will soon, likewise, be con- 
nected with the continent. We have seen on a small 
scale the prodess of the deluge, and can now witness 
that of the reappearance of the earth. 

Crows visited us long before the snow was off. 
They seem mostly to have departed now, or else to 
have betaken themselves to remote depths of the 
woods, which they haunt all summer long. Ducks 
came in great numbers, and many sportsmen went in 
pursuit of them along the river ; but they also have 
disappeared. Gulls come up from seaward, and soar 
high overhead, flapping their broad wings in the upper 
sunshine. They are among the most picturesque birds 
that I am acquainted with ; indeed, quite the most so, 
because the manner of their flight makes them almost 
stationary parts of the landscape. The imagination 
has time to rest upon them; they have not flitted 
away in a moment. You go up among the clouds, and 
lay hold of these soaring gulls, and repose with them 
upon the sustaining atmosphere. The smaller birds, 



1843.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 347 

■ — the birds that build their nests in our trees, and 
sing for us at morning-red, — I will not describe. . . . 
But I must mention the great companies of blackbirds 
— more than the famous " four - and - twenty " who 
were baked in a pie — that congregate on the tops of 
contiguous trees, and vociferate with all the clamor of 
a turbulent political meeting. Politics must certainly 
be the subject of such a tumultuous debate ; but still, 
there is a melody in each individual utterance, and a 
harmony in the general effect. Mr. Thoreau tells me 
that these noisy assemblages consist of three different 
species of blackbirds; but I forget the other two. 
Robins have been long among us, and swallows have 
more recently arrived. 

April 26th. — Here is another misty day, muffling 
the sun. The lilac-shrubs under my study window are 
almost in leaf. In two or three days more, I may put 
forth my hand and pluck a green bough. These lilacs 
appear to be very aged, and have lost the luxuriant 
foliage of their prime. Old age has a singular aspect 
in lilacs, rose-bushes, and other ornamental shrubs. 
It seems as if such things, as they grow only for 
beauty, ought to flourish in immortal youth, or at least 
to die before their decrepitude. They are trees of Par- 
adise, and therefore not naturally subject to decay ; 
but have lost their birthright by being transplanted 
hither. There is a kind of ludicrous unfitness in the 
idea of a venerable rose-bush ; and there is something 
analogous to this in human life. Persons who can 
only be graceful and ornamental — who can give the 
world nothing but flowers — should die young, and 
never be seen with gray hairs and wrinkles, any more 
than the flower - shrubs with mossy bark and scanty 



348 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

foliage, like the lilacs under my window. Not that 
beauty is not worthy of immortality. Nothing else, 
indeed, is worthy of it ; and thence, perhaps, the sense 
of impropriety when we see it triumphed over by time. 
Apple-trees, on the other hand, grow old without re- 
proach. Let them live as long as they may, and con- 
tort themselves in whatever fashion they please, they 
are still respectable, even if they afford us only an ap- 
ple or two in a season, or none at all. Human flower- 
shrubs, if they will grow old on earth, should, beside 
their lovely blossoms, bear some kind of fruit that will 
satisfy earthly appetites ; else men will not be satisfied 
that the moss should gather on them. 

Winter and Spring are now struggling for the mas- 
tery in my study ; and I yield somewhat to each, and 
wholly to neither. The window is open, and there is 
a fire in the stove. The day when the window is first 
thrown open should be an epoch in the year ; but I 
have forgotten to record it. Seventy or eighty springs 
have visited this old house ; and sixty of them found 
old Dr. Eipley here, — not always old, it is true, but 
gradually getting wrinkles and gray hairs, and look- 
ing more and more the picture of winter. But he was 
no flower-shrub, but one of those fruit-trees or timber- 
trees that acquire a grace with their old age. Last 
Spring found this house solitary for the first time 
since it was built ; and now again she peeps into our 
open windows and finds new faces here. . . . 

It is remarkable how much uncleanness winter 
brings with it, or leaves behind it. . . . The yard, gar- 
den, and avenue, which should be my department, re- 
quire a great amount of labor. The avenue is strewed 
with withered leaves, — the whole crop, apparently, of 
last year, — some of which are now raked into heaps ; 






1843.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 349 

and we intend to make a bonfire of them. . . . There 
are quantities of decayed branches, which one tempest 
after another has flung down, black and rotten. In 
the garden are the old cabbages which we did not 
think worth gathering last autumn, and the dry bean= 
vines, and the withered stalks of the asparagus-bed ; 
in short, all the wrecks of the departed year, — its 
mouldering relics, its dry bones. It is a pity that the 
world cannot be made over anew every spring. Then, 
in the yard, there are the piles of firewood, which I 
ought to have sawed and thrown into the shed long 
since, but which will cumber the earth, I fear, till 
June, at least. Quantities of chips are strewn about, 
and on removing them we find the yellow stalks of 
grass sprouting underneath. Nature does her best to 
beautify this disarray. The grass springs up most in- 
dustriously, especially in sheltered and sunny angles 
of the buildings, or round the doorsteps, — a locality 
which seems particularly favorable to its growth ; for 
it is already high enough to bend over and wave in 
the wind. I was surprised to observe that some 
weeds (especially a plant that stains the fingers with 
its yellow juice) had lived, and retained their fresh- 
ness and sap as perfectly as in summer, through all 
the frosts and snows of last winter. I saw them, the 
last green thing, in the autumn ; and here they are 
again, the first in the spring. 

Thursday, April 21th. — I took a walk into the 
fields, and round our opposite hill, yesterday noon, but 
made no very remarkable observation. The frogs have 
begun their concerts, though not as yet with a full 
choir. I found no violets nor anemones, nor anything • 
in the likeness of a flower, though I looked carefully 



850 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

along the shelter of the stone-walls, and in all spots 
apparently propitious. I ascended the hill, and had a 
wide prospect of a swollen river, extending around me 
in a semicircle of three or four miles, and rendering 
the view much finer than in summer, had there only 
been foliage. It seemed like the formation of a new 
world ; for islands were everywhere emerging, and 
capes extending forth into the flood ; and these tracts, 
which were thus won from the watery empire, were 
among the greenest in the landscape. The moment 
the deluge leaves them Nature asserts them to be her 
property by covering them with verdure ; or perhaps 
the grass had been growing under the water. On the 
hill-top where I stood, the grass had scarcely begun to 
sprout ; and I observed that even those places which 
looked greenest in the distance were but scantily grass- 
covered when I actually reached them. It was hope 
that painted them so bright. 

Last evening we saw a bright light on the river, 
betokening that a boat's party were engaged in spear- 
ing fish. It looked like a descended star, — like red 
Mars, — and, as the water was perfectly smooth, its 
gleam was reflected downward into the depths. It is 
a very picturesque sight. In the deep quiet of the 
night I suddenly heard the light and lively note of a 
bird from a neighboring tree, — a real song, such as 
those which greet the purple dawn, or mingle with the 
yellow sunshine. What could the little bird mean by 
pouring it forth at midnight ? Probably the note 
gushed out from the midst of a dream, in which he 
fancied himself in Paradise with his mate ; and, sud- 
denly awakening, he found he was on a cold, leafless 
bough, with a New England mist penetrating through 
his feathers. That was a sad exchange of imagination 



1843.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 351 

for reality ; but if he found his mate beside him, all 
was well. 

This is another misty morning", ungenial in aspect, 
but kinder than it looks ; for it paints the hills and 
valleys with a richer brush than the sunshine could. 
There is more verdure now than when I looked out of 
the window an hour ago. The willow - tree opposite 
my study window is ready to put forth its leaves. 
There are some objections to willows. It is not a dry 
and cleanly tree ; it impresses me with an association 
of sliminess ; and no trees, I think, are perfectly satis- 
factory, which have not a firm and hard texture of 
trunk and branches. But the willow is almost the 
earliest to put forth its leaves, and the last to scatter 
them on the ground ; and during the whole winter its 
yellow twigs give it a sunny aspect, which is not with- 
out a cheering influence in a proper point of view. 
Our old house would lose much were this willow to be 
cut down, with its golden crown over the roof in win- 
ter, and its heap of summer verdure. The present Mr. 
Ripley planted it, fifty years ago, or thereabouts. 

Friday, June 2d. — Last night there came a frost, 
which has done great damage to my garden. The 
beans have suffered very much, although, luckily, not 
more than half that I planted have come up. The 
squashes, both summer and winter, appear to be almost 
killed. As to the other vegetables, there is little mis- 
chief done, — the potatoes not being yet above ground, 
except two or three ; and the peas and corn are of a 
hardier nature. It is sad that Nature will so sport 
with us poor mortals, inviting us with sunny smiles to 
confide in her ; and then, when we are entirely in her 
power, striking us to the heart. Our summer com* 



352 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

mences at the latter end of June, and terminates some- 
where about the first of August. There are certainly 
not more than six weeks of the whole year when a 
frost may be deemed anything remarkable. 

Friday, June 23d. — Summer has come at last, — » 
the longest days, with blazing sunshine, and fervid 
heat. Yesterday glowed like molten brass. Last 
night was the most uncomfortably and unsleepably 
sultry that we have experienced since our residence in 
Concord ; and to-day it scorches again. I have a sort 
of enjoyment in these seven-times-heated furnaces of 
midsummer, even though they make me droop like a 
thirsty plant. The sunshine can scarcely be too burn- 
ing for my taste ; but I am no enemy to summer show- 
ers. Could I only have the freedom to be perfectly 
idle now, — no duty to fulfil, no mental or physical 
labor to perform, — I should be as happy as a squash, 
and much in the same mode ; but the necessity of 
keeping my brain at work eats into my comfort, as 
the squash-bugs do into the heart of the vines. I keep 
myself uneasy and produce little, and almost nothing 
that is worth producing. 

The garden looks well now : the potatoes flourish ; 
the early corn waves in the wind ; the squashes, both 
for summer and winter use, are more forward, I sus- 
pect, than those of any of my neighbors. I am forced, 
however, to carry on a continual warfare with the 
squash-bugs, who, were I to let them alone for a day, 
would perhaps quite destroy the prospects of the whole 
summer. It is impossible not to feel angry with these 
unconscionable insects, who scruple not to do such ex- 
cessive mischief to me, with only the profit of a meal 
or two to themselves. For their own sakes they ought 



1843.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 353 

at least to wait till the squashes are better grown. 
Why is it, I wonder, that Nature has provided such a 
host of enemies for every useful esculent, while the 
weeds are suffered to grow unmolested, and are pro- 
vided with such tenacity of life, and such methods of 
propagation, that the gardener must maintain a con- 
tinual struggle or they will hopelessly overwhelm him ? 
What hidden virtue is in these things, that it is granted 
them to sow themselves with the wind, and to grapple 
the earth with this immitigable stubbornness, and to 
flourish in spite of obstacles, and never to suffer blight 
beneath any sun or shade, but always to mock their ene- 
mies with the same wicked luxuriance ? It is truly a 
mystery, and also a symbol. There is a sort of sacred- 
ness about them. Perhaps, if we could penetrate Na- 
ture's secrets, we should find that what we call weeds 
are more essential to the well-being of the world than 
the most precious fruit or grain. This may be doubted, 
however, for there is an unmistakable analogy be- 
tween these wicked weeds and the bad habits and sin- 
ful propensities which have overrun the moral world ; 
and we may as well imagine that there is good in one 
as in the other. 

Our peas are in such forwardness that I should not 
wonder if we had some of them on the table within 
a week. The beans have come up ill, and I planted a 
fresh supply only the day before yesterday. We have 
watermelons in good advancement, and muskmelons 
also within three or four days. I set out some toma- 
toes last night, also some capers. It is my purpose 
to plant some more corn at the end of the month, or 
sooner. There ought to be a record of the flower-gar- 
den, and of the procession of the wild-flowers, as mi- 
nute, at least, as of the kitchen vegetables and pot« 

vol. ix. 23 



354 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

herbs. Above all, the noting of the appearance of the 
first roses should not be omitted; nor of the ^.re- 
thusa, one of the delicatest, gracefullest, and in every 
manner sweetest, of the whole race of flowers. For a 
fortnight past I have found it in the swampy mead- 
ows, growing up to its chin in heaps of wet moss. Its 
hue is a delicate pink, of various depths of shade, and 
somewhat in the form of a Grecian helmet. To de- 
scribe it is a feat beyond my power. Also the visit 
of two friends, who may fitly enough be mentioned 
among flowers, ought to have been described. Mrs. 

F. S and Miss A. S . Also I have neglected 

to mention the birth of a little white dove. 

I never observed, until the present season, how long 
and late the twilight lingers in these longest days. 
The orange hue of the western horizon remains till 
ten o'clock, at least, and how much later I am unable 
to say. The night before last, I could distinguish let- 
ters by this lingering gleam between nine and ten 
o'clock. The dawn, I suppose, shows itself as early 
as two o'clock, so that the absolute dominion of night 
has dwindled to almost nothing. There seems to be 
also a diminished necessity, or, at all events, a much 
less possibility, of sleep than at other periods of the 
year. I get scarcely any sound repose just now. It 
is summer, and not winter, that steals away mortal life. 
Well, we get the value of what is taken from us. 

Saturday, July 1st. — We had our first dish of 
green peas (a very small one) yesterday. Every day 
for the last week has been tremendously hot ; and our 
garden flourishes like Eden itself, only Adam could 
hardly have been doomed to contend with such a f ero« 
cious banditti of weeds. 



1843.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 355 

Sunday, July 9th. - — I know not what to say, and 
yet cannot be satisfied without marking with a word 
or two this anniversary. . . . But life now swells and 
heaves beneath me like a brim-full ocean ; and the en- 
deavor to comprise any portion of it in words is like 
trying to dip up the ocean in a goblet. . . . God bless 
and keep us ! for there is something more awful in 
happiness than in sorrow, — the latter being earthly 
and finite, the former composed of the substance and 
texture of eternity, so that spirits still embodied may 
well tremble at it. 

July ISth. — This morning I gathered our first 
summer-squashes. We should have had them some 
days earlier, but for the loss of two of the vines, either 
by a disease of the roots or by those infernal bugs. 
We have had turnips and carrots several times. Cur- 
rants are now ripe, and we are in the full enjoyment 
of cherries, which turn out much more delectable than 
I anticipated. George Hillard and Mrs. Hillard paid 
us a visit on Saturday last. On Monday afternoon he 
left us, and Mrs. Hillard still remains here. 

Friday, July 28th. — We had green corn for din- 
ner yesterday, and shall have some more to-day, not 
quite full grown, but sufficiently so to be palatable. 
There has been no rain, except one moderate shower, 
for many weeks ; and the earth appears to be wasting 
away in a slow fever. This weather, I think, affects 
the spirits very unfavorably. There is an irksome- 
ness, a restlessness, a pervading dissatisfaction, to 
gether with an absolute incapacity to bend the mind 
to any serious effort. With me, as regards literary 
production, the summer has been unprofitable ; and I 



856 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

only hope that my forces are recruiting themselves for 
the autumn and winter. For the future, I shall en- 
deavor to be so diligent nine months of the year that 
I may allow myself a full and free vacation of the 
other three. 

Monday, July 31st. — We had our first cucumber 
yesterday. There were symptoms of rain on Satur- 
day, and the weather has since been as moist as the 
thirstiest soul could desire. 

Wednesday, September 13th. — There was a frost 
the night before last, according to George Prescott ; 
but no effects of it were visible in our garden. Last 
night, however, there was another, which has nipped 
the leaves of the winter-squashes and cucumbers, but 
seems to have done no other damage. This is a beau- 
tiful morning, and promises to be one of those heav- 
enly days that render autumn, after all, the most de- 
lightful season of the year. We mean to make a 
voyage on the river this afternoon. 

Sunday, September 23d. — I have gathered the 
two last of our summer-squashes to-day. They have 
lasted ever since the 18th of July, and have numbered 
fifty -eight edible ones, of excellent quality. Last 
Wednesday, I think, I harvested our winter-squashes, 
sixty-three in number, and mostly of fine size. Our 
last series of green corn, planted about the 1st of July, 
was good for eating two or three days ago. We still 
have beans ; and our tomatoes, though backward, sup- 
ply us with a dish every day or two. My potato-crop 
promises well ; and, on the whole, my first indepen- 
dent experiment of agriculture is quite a successful 
one. 



1843.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 357 

This is a glorious day, — bright, very warm, yet 
with an unspeakable gentleness both in its warmth 
and brightness. On such days it is impossible not to 
love Nature, for she evidently loves us. At other sea- 
sons she does not give me this impression, or only at 
very rare intervals ; but in these happy, autumnal 
days, when she has perfected the harvests, and accom- 
plished every necessary thing that she had to do, she 
overflows with a blessed superfluity of love. It is 
good to be alive now. Thank God for breath, — yes, 
for mere breath ! when it is made up of such a heav- 
enly breeze as this. It comes to the cheek with a real 
kiss ; it would linger fondly around us, if it might ; 
but, since it must be gone, it caresses us with its whole 
kindly heart, and passes onward, to caress likewise the 
next thing that it meets. There is a pervading bless- 
ing diffused over all the world. I look out of the 
window and think, " O perfect day ! O beautiful 
world ! O good God ! " And such a day is the 
promise of a blissful eternity. Our Creator would 
never have made such weather, and given us the deep 
heart to enjoy it, above and beyond all thought, if he 
had not meant us to be immortal. It opens the gates 
of heaven and gives us glimpses far inward. 

Bless me ! this flight has carried me a great way ; 
so now let me come back to our old abbey. Our or- 
chard is fast ripening ; and the apples and great thump- 
ing pears strew the grass in such abundance that it 
becomes almost a trouble — though a pleasant one — 
to gather them. This happy breeze, too, shakes them 
down, as if it flung fruit to us out of the sky ; and 
often, when the air is perfectly still, I hear the quiet 
fall of a great apple. Well, we are rich in blessings, 
though poor in money. . . . 



358 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

Friday, October 6th. — Yesterday afternoon I took 
a solitary walk to Walden Pond. It was a cool, windy 
day, with heavy clouds rolling and tumbling about the 
sky, but still a prevalence of genial autumn sunshine. 
The fields are still green, and the great masses of the 
woods have not yet assumed their many-colored gar- 
ments ; but here and there are solitary oaks of deep, 
substantial red, or maples of a more brilliant hue, or 
chestnuts either yellow or of a tenderer green than in 
summer. Some trees seem to return to their hue of 
May or early June before they put on the brighter 
autumnal tints. In some places, along the borders of 
low and moist land, a whole range of trees were clothed 
in the perfect gorgeousness of autumn, of all shades 
of brilliant color, looking like the palette on which 
Nature was arranging the tints wherewith to paint a 
picture. These hues appeared to be thrown together 
without design ; and yet there was perfect harmony 
among them, and a softness and a delicacy made up 
of a thousand different brightnesses. There is not, I 
think, so much contrast among these colors as might 
at first appear. The more you consider them, the 
more they seem to have one element among them all, 
which is the reason that the most brilliant display of 
them soothes the observer, instead of exciting him* 
And I know not whether it be more a moral effect or 
a physical one, operating merely on the eye ; but it is 
a pensive gayety, which causes a sigh often, and never 
a smile. We never fancy, for instance, that these 
gayly clad trees might be changed into young damsels 
in holiday attire, and betake themselves to dancing on 
the plain. If they were to undergo such a transfor- 
mation, they would surely arrange themselves in funeral 
procession, and go sadly along, with their purple and 



1843.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 359 

scarlet and golden garments trailing over the wither- 
ing grass. When the sunshine falls upon them, they 
seem to smile ; but it is as if they were heart-broken. 
But it is in vain for me to attempt to describe these 
autumnal brilliancies, or to convey the impression 
which they make on me. I have tried a thousand » 
times, and always without the slightest self - satisfac= 
tion. Fortunately there is no need of such a record, 
for Nature renews the picture year after year ; and 
even when we shall have passed away from the world, 
we can spiritually create these scenes, so that we may 
dispense with all efforts to put them into words. 

Walden Pond was clear and beautiful as usual. It 
tempted me to bathe ; and, though the water was 
thrillingly cold, it was like the thrill of a happy death. 
Never was there such transparent water as this. I 
threw sticks into it, and saw them float suspended on 
an almost invisible medium. It seemed as if the pure 
air were beneath them, as well as above. It is fit for 
baptisms ; but one would not wish it to be polluted by 
having sins washed into it. None but angels should 
bathe in it ; but blessed babies might be dipped into 
its bosom. 

In a small and secluded dell that opens upon the 
most beautiful cove of the whole lake, there is a little 
hamlet of huts or shanties inhabited by the Irish people 
who are at work upon the railroad. There are three 
or four of these habitations, the very rudest, I should 
imagine, that civilized men ever made for themselves, 
-~ constructed of rough boards, with the protruding 
ends. Against some of them the earth is heaped up 
to the roof, or nearly so ; and when the grass has had 
time to sprout upon them, they will look like small 
natural hillocks, or a species of ant-hills, — something 



360 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1843. 

in which Nature has a larger share than man. These 
huts are placed beneath the trees, oaks, walnuts, and 
white-pines, wherever the trunks give them space to 
stand ; and by thus adapting themselves to natural in° 
terstices, instead of making new ones, they do not 
break or disturb the solitude and seclusion of the 
place. Voices are heard, and the shouts and laughter 
of children, who play about like the sunbeams that 
come down through the branches. Women are wash- 
ing in open spaces, and long lines of whitened clothes 
are extended from tree to tree, fluttering and gambol- 
ling in the breeze. A pig, in a sty even more extem- 
porary than the shanties, is grunting and poking his 
snout through the clefts of his habitation. The house- 
hold pots and kettles are seen at the doors ; and a 
glance within shows the rough benches that serve for 
chairs, and the bed upon the floor. The visitor's nose 
takes note of the fragrance of a pipe. And yet, with 
all these homely items, the repose and sanctity of the 
old wood do not seem to be destroyed or profaned. 
It overshadows these poor people, and assimilates them 
somehow or other to the character of its natural inhab- 
itants. Their presence did not shock me any more 
than if I had merely discovered a squirrel's nest in a 
tree. To be sure, it is a torment to see the great, 
high, ugly embankment of the railroad, which is here 
thrusting itself into the lake, or along its margin, in 
close vicinity to this picturesque little hamlet. I have 
seldom seen anything more beautiful than the cove on 
the border of which the huts are situated ; and the 
more I looked, the lovelier it grew. The trees over- 
shadowed it deeply ; but on one side there was some 
brilliant shrubbery which seemed to light up the whole 
picture with the effect of a sweet and melancholy smile 



1844.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 361 

I felt as if spirits were there, — or as if these shrubs 
had a spiritual life. In short, the impression was in- 
definable ; and, after gazing and musing a good while, 
I retraced my steps through the Irish hamlet, and 
plodded on along a wood-path. 

According to my invariable custom, I mistook my 
way, and, emerging upon the road, I turned my back 
instead of my face towards Concord, and walked on 
very diligently till a guide-board informed me of my 
mistake. I then turned about, and was shortly over- 
taken by an old yeoman in a chaise, who kindly of- 
fered me a drive, and soon set me down in the village. 

EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS. 

Salem, April \\th, 1844. — ... I went to George 
Hillard's office, and he spoke with immitigable reso- 
lution of the necessity of my going to dine with Long- 
fellow before returning to Concord ; but I have an al- 
most miraculous power of escaping from necessities of 
this kind. Destiny itself has often been worsted in 
the attempt to get me oixt to dinner. Possibly, how- 
ever, I may go. Afterwards, I called on Colonel Hall, 
who held me long in talk about politics and other 
sweetmeats. Then I stepped into a book auction, 
not to buy, but merely to observe, and, after a few 
moments, who should come in, with a smile as sweet 
as sugar (though savoring rather of molasses), but, to 

my horror and petrifaction, ! I anticipated 

a great deal of bore and botheration ; but, through 
Heaven's mercy, he merely spoke a few words, and 
left me. This is so unlike his deportment in times 
past, that I suspect " The Celestial Railroad " must 
have given him a pique ; and, if so, I shall feel as if 
Providence had sufficiently rewarded me for that pious 
labor. 



362 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1844. 

In the course of the forenoon I encountered Mr. 
Howes in the street. He looked most exceedingly de- 
pressed, and, pressing my hand with peculiar empha- 
sis, said that he was in great affliction, having just 
heard of his son George's death in Cuba. He seemed 
encompassed and overwhelmed by this misfortune 9 
and walks the street as in a heavy cloud of his own 
grief, forth from which he extended his hand to meet 
my grasp. I expressed my sympathy, which I told 
him I was now the more capable of feeling in a 
father's suffering, as being myself the father of a lit- 
tle girl, — and, indeed, the being a parent does give 
one the freedom of a wider range of sorrow as well 
as of happiness. He again pressed my hand, and left 
me. . . . 

When I got to Salem, there was great joy, as you 
may suppose. . . . Mother hinted an apprehension 
that poor baby would be spoilt, whereupon I irrever- 
ently observed that, having spoiled her own three chil- 
dren, it was natural for her to suppose that all other 
parents would do the same ; when she averred that it 

was impossible to spoil such children as E and I, 

because she had never been able to do anything with 
us. . . . I could hardly convince them that Una had 
begun to smile so soon. It surprised my mother, 
though her own children appear to have been bright 

specimens of babyhood. E could walk and talk 

at nine months old. I do not understand that I was 
quite such a miracle of precocity, but should think it 
not impossible, inasmuch as precocious boys are said 
to make stupid men. 

May 21th, 1844. — . . . My cook fills his office 
admirably. He prepared what I must acknowledge 



1844.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 363 

to be the best dish of fried fish and potatoes for din= 
ner to-day that I ever tasted in this house. I scarcely 
recognized the fish of our own river. I make him get 
all the dinners, while I confine myself to the much 
lighter task of breakfast and tea. He also takes his 
turn in washing the dishes. 

We had a very pleasant dinner at Longfellow's, .' 
and I liked Mrs. Longfellow very much. The dinner 

was late and we sat long ; so that C and I did 

not get to Concord till half past nine o'clock, and 
truly the old manse seemed somewhat dark and deso- 
late. The next morning George Prescott came with 
Una's Lion, who greeted me very affectionately, but 
whined and moaned as if he missed somebody who 
should have been here. I am not quite so strict as I 
should be in keeping him out of the house ; but I 
commiserate him and myself, for are we not both of 

us bereaved ? C , whom I can no more keep 

from smoking than I could the kitchen chimney, has 
just come into the study with a cigar, which might 
perfume this letter and make you think it came from 
my own enormity, so I may as well stop here. 

May 29th. — C is leaving me, to my unspeak- 
able relief ; for he has had a bad cold, which caused 
him to be much more troublesome and less amusing 
than might otherwise have been the case. 

May 31s£. — . . . I get along admirably, and am 
at this moment superintending the corned beef, which 
has been on the fire, as it appears to me, ever since 
the beginning of time, and shows no symptom of be- 
ing done before the crack of doom. Mrs. Hale says 
it must boil till it becomes tender ; and so it shall, if 
I can find wood to keep the fire a-going. 



364 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1844. 

Meantime, I keep my station in the dining-room, 
and read or write as composedly as in my own study. 
Just now, there came a very important rap at the 
front door, and I threw down a smoked herring which 
I had begun to eat, as there is no hope of the corned 
beef to-day, and went to admit the visitor. Who 

should it be but Ben B , with a very peculiar and 

mysterious grin upon his face ! He put into my hand 
a missive directed to " Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne." It 
contained a little bit of card, signifying that Dr. L. 
F- and Miss C. B receive their friends Thurs- 
day eve, June 6. I am afraid I shall be too busy 
washing my dishes to pay many visits. The washing 
of dishes does seem to me the most absurd and unsat- 
isfactory business that I ever undertook. If, when 
once washed, they would remain clean forever and 
ever (which they ought in all reason to do, consider- 
ing how much trouble it is), there would be less oc- 
casion to grumble ; but no sooner is it done, than it 
requires to be done again. On the whole, I have come 
to the resolution not to use more than one dish at each 
meal. However, I moralize deeply on this and other 
matters, and have discovered that all the trouble and 
affliction in the world come from the necessity of 
cleansing away our earthly stains. 

I ate the last morsel of bread yesterday, and con- 
gratulate myself on being now reduced to the fag-end 
of necessity. Nothing worse can happen, according to 
ordinary modes of thinking, than to want bread ; but 
like most afflictions, it is more in prospect than reality, 
I found one cracker in the tureen, and exulted over it 
as if it had been so much gold. However, I have sent 

a petition to Mrs. P stating my destitute condi- 

tion, and imploring her succor ; and, till it arrive, I 



1844.J AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 365 

shall keep myself alive on herrings and apples, to- 
gether with part of a pint of milk, which I share with 
Leo. He is my great trouble now, though an excel- 
lent companion too. But it is not easy to find food 
for him, unless I give him what is fit for Christians, 
— though, for that matter, he appears to be as good 
a Christian as most laymen, or even as some of the 
clergy. I fried some pouts and eels yesterday, on 
purpose for him, for he does not like raw fish. They 
were very good, but I should hardly have taken the 
trouble on my own account. 

George P has just come to say that Mrs. P — — ■ 

has no bread at present, and is gone away this after- 
noon, but that she will send me some to-morrow. I 
mean to have a regular supply from the same source. 
. . . You cannot imagine how much the presence of 
Leo relieves the feeling of perfect loneliness. He in- 
sists upon being in the room with me all the time, ex- 
cept at night, when he sleeps in the shed, and I do not 
find myself severe enough to drive him out. He ac- 
companies me likewise in all my walks to the village 
and elsewhere ; and, in short, keeps at my heels, all 
the time, except when I go down cellar. Then he 
stands at the head of the stairs and howls, as if he 
never expected to see me again. He is evidently im- 
pressed with the present solitude of our old abbey, 
both on his own account and mine, and feels that he 
may assume a greater degree of intimacy than would 
be otherwise allowable. He will be easily brought 
within the old regulations after your return. 

P. S. 3 o'clock.— The beef is done ! ! ! 

Concord. The Old Manse. June 2d. — ... 
Everything goes on well with me. At the time of 



366 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1844 

writing my last letter, I was without bread. Well, 
just at supper-time came Mrs. B with a large cov- 
ered dish, which proved to contain a quantity of spe- 
cially good flapjacks, piping hot, prepared, I suppose, 
by the fair hands of Miss Martha or Miss Abby, for 

Mrs. P was not at home. They served me both 

for supper and breakfast ; and I thanked Providence 
and the young ladies, and compared myself to the 
prophet fed by ravens, — though the simile does rather 
more than justice to myself, and not enough to the 
generous donors of the flapjacks. The next morning, 

Mrs. P herself brought two big loaves of bread, 

which will last me a week, unless I have some guests 
to provide for. I have likewise found a hoard of 
crackers in one of the covered dishes ; so that the old 
castle is sufficiently provisioned to stand a long siege. 
The corned beef is exquisitely done, and as tender as 
a young lady's heart, all owing to my skilful cookery ; 
for I consulted Mrs. Hale at every step, and precisely 
followed her directions. To say the truth, I look upon 
it as such a masterpiece in its way, that it seems irrev- 
erential to eat it. Things on which so much thought 
and labor are bestowed should surely be immortal. 
• . . Leo and I attended divine services this morn- 
ing in a temple not made with hands. We went to 
the farthest extremity of Peter's path, and there lay 
together under an oak, on the verge of the broad 
meadow. 

Concord, June 6th. — ... Mr. F arrived yes- 
terday, and appeared to be in most excellent health, 
and as happy as the sunshine. About the first thing 
he did was to wash the dishes ; and he is really in- 
defatigable in the kitchen, so that I am quite a gentle- 



1844.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 367 

man of leisure. Previous to his arrival, I had kindled 
no fire for four entire days, and had lived all that 
time on the corned beef, except one day, when Ellery 
and I went down the river on a fishing excursion. 
Yesterday, we boiled some lamb, which we shall have 
cold for dinner to-day. This morning, Mr. F— — - 
fried a sumptuous dish of eels for breakfast. Mrs. P. 

continues to be the instrument of Providence, 

and yesterday sent us a very nice plum-pudding. 

I have told Mr. P that I shall be engaged in 

the forenoons, and he is to manage his own occupa- 
tions and amusements during that time. . . . 

Leo, I regret to say, has fallen under suspicion of a 
very great crime, — nothing less than murder, — a 
fowl crime it may well be called, for it is the slaughter 
of one of Mr. Hay ward's hens. He has been seen to 
chase the hens, several times, and the other day one of 
them was found dead. Possibly he may be innocent, 
and, as there is nothing but circumstantial evidence, it 
must be left with his own conscience. 

Meantime, Mr. Hayward, or somebody else, seems 
to have given him such a whipping that he is abso- 
lutely stiff, and walks about like a rheumatic old gen- 
tleman. I am afraid, too, that he is an incorrigible 
thief. Ellery says he has seen him coming up the 
avenue with a calf's whole head in his mouth. How 
he came by it is best known to Leo himself. If he 
were a dog of fair character, it would be no more than 
charity to conclude that he had either bought it, or 
had it given to him ; but with the other charges against 
him, it inclines me to great distrust of his moral prin- 
ciples. Be that as it may, he managed his stock, of 
provisions very thriftily, — burying it in the earth, 
and eating a portion of it whenever he felt an appe- 



868 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS, [1850. 

tite. If he insists upon living by highway robbery, 
it would be well to make him share his booty with 
us. . . . 

June 10th. — • . . . Mr. ~F is in perfect health, 

and absolutely in the seventh heaven, and he talks and 
talks and talks and talks ; and I listen and listen and 
listen with a patience for which, in spite of all my 
sins, I firmly expect to be admitted to the mansions of 
the blessed. And there is really a contentment in be- 
ing able to make this poor, world-worn, hopeless, half- 
crazy man so entirely comfortable as he seems to be 
here. He is an admirable cook. We had some roast 
veal and a baked rice-pudding on Sunday, really a fine 
dinner, and cooked in better style than Mary can 
equal ; and George Curtis came to dine with us. Like 
all male cooks, he is rather expensive, and has a ten- 
dency to the consumption of eggs in his various con- 
coctions. ... I have had my dreams of splendor; 
but never expected to arrive at the dignity of keeping 
a man-cook. At first we had three meals a day, but 
now only two. . . . 

We dined at Mr. Emerson's the other day, in com- 
pany with Mr. Hedge. Mr. Bradford has been to see 
us two or three times. . . . He looks thinner than 
ever. 

PASSAGES FROM NOTE-BOOKS. 

May 5th, 1850. — I left Portsmouth last Wednes- 
day, at the quarter past twelve, by the Concord Rail- 
road, which at Newcastle unites with the Boston and 
Maine Railroad about ten miles from Portsmouth. 
The station at Newcastle is a small wooden building, 



1850.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 369 

with one railroad passing on one side, and another on 
another, and the two crossing each other at right an- 
gles. At a little distance stands a black, large, old, 
wooden church, with a square tower, and broken win- 
dows, and a great rift through the middle of the roof, 
all in a stage of dismal ruin and decay. A farm-house 
of the old style, with a long sloping roof, and as black 
as the church, stands on the opposite side of the road, 
with its barns ; and these are all the buildings in sight 
of the railroad station. On the Concord rail is the 
train of cars, with the locomotive puffing, and blowing 
off its steam, and making a great bluster in that lonely 
place, while along the other railroad stretches the des- 
olate track, with the withered weeds growing up be- 
twixt the two lines of iron, all so desolate. And anon 
you hear a low thunder running along these iron rails ; 
it grows louder ; an object is seen afar off ; it ap- 
proaches rapidly, and comes down upon you like fate, 
swift and inevitable. In a moment, it dashes along in 
front of the station-house, and comes to a pause, the 
locomotive hissing and fuming in its eagerness to go 
on. How much life has come at once into this lonely 
place! Four or five long cars, each, perhaps, with 
fifty people in it, reading newspapers, reading pam- 
phlet novels, chattering, sleeping; all this vision of 
passing life ! A moment passes, while the luggage- 
men are putting on the trunks and packages; then 
the bell strikes a few times, and away goes the train 
again, quickly out of sight of those who remain be- 
hind, while a solitude of hours again broods over the 
station-house, which, for an instant, has thus been put 
in communication with far-off cities, and then remains 
by itself, with the old, black, ruinous church, and the 
black old farm-house, both built years and years ago, 



370 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1850. 

before railroads were ever dreamed of. Meantime, 
the passenger, stepping from the solitary station into 
the train, finds himself in the midst of a new world all 
in a moment. He rushes out of the solitude into a 
village ; thence, through woods and hills, into a large 
inland town; beside the Merrimack, which has over- 
flowed its banks, and eddies along, turbid as a vast 
mud-puddle, sometimes almost laving the doorstep of 
a house, and with trees standing in the flood half-way 
up their trunks. Boys, with newspapers to sell, or 
apples and lozenges ; many passengers departing and 
entering, at each new station; the more permanent 
passenger, with his check or ticket stuck in his hat- 
band, where the conductor may see it. A party of 
girls, playing at ball with a young man. Altogether 
it is a scene of stirring life, with which a person who 
had been waiting long for the train to come might find 
it difficult at once to amalgamate himself. 

It is a sombre, brooding day, and begins to rain as 
the cars pass onward. In a little more than two hours 
we find ourselves in Boston surrounded by eager hack- 
men. 

Yesterday I went to the Athenaeum, and, being re- 
ceived with great courtesy by Mr. Folsom, was shown 
all over the edifice from the very bottom to the very 
top, whence I looked out over Boston. It is an ad- 
mirable point of view ; but, it being an overcast and 
misty day, I did not get the full advantage of it. The 
library is in a noble hall, and looks splendidly with its 
vista of alcoves. The most remarkable sight, how- 
ever, was Mr. Hildreth, writing his history of the 
United States. He sits at a table, at the entrance of 
one of the alcoves, with his books and papers before 
him, as quiet and absorbed as he would be in the lone* 



1850.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 371 

liest study; now consulting an authority; now pen- 
ning a sentence or paragraph, without seeming con- 
scious of anything but his subject. It is very curious 
thus to have a glimpse of a book in process of creation 
under one's eye. I know not how many hours he sits 
there ; but while I saw him he was a pattern of dili- 
gence and unwandering thought. He had taken him- 
self out of the age, and put himself, I suppose, into 
that about which he was writing. Being deaf, he finds 
it much the easier to abstract himself. Nevertheless, 
it is a miracle. He is a thin, middle-aged man, in 
black, with an intelligent face, rather sensible than 
scholar-like. 

Mr. Folsom accompanied me to call upon Mr. Tick- 
nor, the historian of Spanish literature. He has a fine 
house, at the corner of Park and Beacon Streets, per- 
haps the very best position in Boston. A marble hall, 
a wide and easy staircase, a respectable old man-ser- 
vant, evidently long at home in the mansion, to admit 
us. We entered the library, Mr. Folsom considerably 
in advance, as being familiar with the house ; and I 
heard Mr. Ticknor greet him in friendly tones, their 
scholar -like and bibliographical pursuits, I suppose, 
bringing them into frequent conjunction. Then I was 
introduced, and received with great distinction, but 
yet without any ostentatious flourish of courtesy. Mr. 
Ticknor has a great head, and his hair is gray or gray- 
ish. You recognize in him at once the man who knows 
the world, the scholar, too, which probably is his more 
distinctive character, though a little more under the 
surface. He was in his slippers ; a volume of his book 
was open on a table, and apparently he had been en- 
gaged in revising or annotating it. His library is a 
stately and beautiful room for a private dwelling, and 



872 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1850. 

itself looks large and rich. The fireplace has a white 
marble frame about it, sculptured with figures and re- 
liefs. Over it hung a portrait of Sir Walter Scott, a 
copy, I think, of the one that represents him in Mel- 
rose Abbey. 

Mr. Ticknor was most kind in his alacrity to solve 
the point on which Mr. Folsom, in my behalf, had con- 
sulted him (as to whether there had been any Eng- 
lish translation of the Tales of Cervantes) ; and most 
liberal in his offers of books from his library. Cer- 
tainly, he is a fine example of a generous-principled 
scholar, anxious to assist the human intellect in its ef- 
forts and researches. Methinks he must have spent a 
happy life (as happiness goes among mortals), writing 
his great three-volumed book for twenty years ; writ- 
ing it, not for bread, nor with any uneasy desire of 
fame, but only with a purpose to achieve something 
true and enduring. He is, I apprehend, a man of 
great cultivation and refinement, and with quite sub- 
stance enough to be polished and refined, without be- 
ing worn too thin in the process, — a man of society. 
He related a singular story of an attempt of his to be- 
come acquainted with me years ago, when he mistook 
my kinsman Eben for me. 

At half past four, I went to Mr. Thompson's, the 
artist who has requested to paint my picture. This 
was the second sitting. The portrait looked dimly out 
from the canvas, as from a cloud, with something that 
I could recognize as my outline, but no strong resem- 
blance as yet. I have had three portraits taken before 
this, — an oil picture, a miniature, and a crayon sketch, 
— neither of them satisfactory to those most familiar 
with my physiognomy. In fact, there is no such 
thing as a true portrait ; they are all delusions, and I 



1850.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 373 

never saw any two alike, nor hardly any two that I 
would recognize merely by the portraits themselves, as 
being of the same man. A bust has more reality. 
This artist is a man of thought, and with no mean idea 
of his art ; a Swedenborgian, or, as he prefers to call 
it, a member of the New Church ; and I have gener- 
ally found something marked in men who adopt that 
faith. He had painted a good picture of Bryant. He 
seems to me to possess truth in himself, and to aim at 
it in his artistic endeavors. 

May 6 th. — This morning it is an easterly rain 
(south-easterly, I should say just now at twelve 
o'clock), and I went at nine, by appointment, to sit 
for my picture. The artist painted awhile ; but soon 
found that he had not so much light as was desirable, 
and complained that his tints were as muddy as the 
weather. Further sitting was therefore postponed till 
to-morrow at eleven. It will be a good picture ; but 
I see no assurance, as yet, of the likeness. An artist's 
apartment is always very interesting to me, with its 
pictures, finished and unfinished ; its little fancies in 
the pictorial way, — as here two sketches of children 
among flowers and foliage, representing Spring and 
Summer, Winter and Autumn being yet to come out 
of the artist's mind ; the portraits of his wife and chil- 
dren ; here a clergyman, there a poet ; here a woman 
with the stamp of reality upon her, there a feminine 
conception which we feel not to have existed. There 
was an infant Christ, or rather a child Christ, not un- 
beautiful, but scarcely divine. I love the odor of 
paint in an artist's room ; his palette and all his other 
tools have a mysterious charm for me. The pursuit 
has always interested my imagination more than any 



374 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1850. 

other, and I remember, before having my first portrait 
taken, there was a great bewitchery in the idea, as if 
it were a magic process. Even now, it is not without 
interest to me. 

I left Mr. Thompson before ten, and took my way 
through the sloppy streets to the Athenaeum, where I 
looked over the newspapers and periodicals, and found 
two of my old stories (" Peter Goldthwaite " and the 
" Shaker Bridal ") published as original in the last 
" London Metropolitan ! " The English are much more 
unscrupulous and dishonest pirates than ourselves. 
However, if they are poor enough to perk themselves 
in such false feathers as these, Heaven help them ! I 
glanced over the stories, and they seemed painfully 
cold and dull. It is the more singular that these 
should be so published, inasmuch as the whole book 
was republished in London, only a few months ago. 
Mr. Fields tells me that two publishers in London 
had advertised the " Scarlet Letter " as in press, each 
book at a shilling. 

Certainly life is made much more tolerable, and 
man respects himself far more, when he takes his 
meals with a certain degree of order and state. There 
should be a sacred law in these matters ; and, as con- 
secrating the whole business, the preliminary prayer 
is a good and real ordinance. The advance of man 
from a savage and animal state may be as well meas- 
ured by his mode and morality of dining, as by any 
other circumstance. At Mr. Fields's, soon after enter- 
ing the house, I heard the brisk and cheerful notes of 
a canary-bird, singing with great vivacity, and making 
its voice echo through the large rooms. It was very 
pleasant at the close of the rainy, east-windy day, and 
seemed to fling sunshine through the dwelling. 



1850.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 375 

May 1th. — I did not go out yesterday afternoon, 
but after tea I went to Parker's. The drinking and 
smoking shop is no bad place to see one kind of life. 
The front apartment is for drinking. The door opens 
into Court Square, and is denoted, usually, by some 
choice specimens of dainties exhibited in the windows, 
or hanging beside the door-post; as, for instance, a 
pair of canvas-back ducks, distinguishable by their del- 
icately mottled feathers ; an admirable cut of raw 
beefsteak ; a ham, ready boiled, and with curious fig- 
ures traced in spices on its outward fat ; a half, or per- 
chance the whole, of a large salmon, when in season ; a 
bunch of partridges, etc., etc. A screen stands directly 
before the door, so as to conceal the interior from an 
outside barbarian. At the counter stand, at almost all 
hours, — certainly at all hours when I have chanced 
to observe, — tipplers, either taking a solitary glass, 
or treating all round, veteran topers, flashy young men, 
visitors from the country, the various petty officers 
connected with the law, whom the vicinity of the 
Court-House brings hither. Chiefly, they drink plain 
liquors, gin, brandy, or whiskey, sometimes a Tom and 
Jerry, a gin cocktail (which the bar-tender makes ar- 
tistically, tossing it in a large parabola from one tum- 
bler to another, until fit for drinking), a brandy-smash, 
and numerous other concoctions. All this toping 
goes forward with little or no apparent exhilaration of 
spirits ; nor does this seem to be the object sought, — 
it being rather, I imagine, to create a titillation of the 
coats of the stomach and a general sense of invigora- 
tion, without affecting the brain. Very seldom does a 
man grow wild and unruly. 

The inner room is hung round with pictures and 
engravings of various kinds, — a painting of a pre- 



376 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1850. 

mium ox, a lithograph of a Turk and of a Turkish 
lady, . . . and various showily engraved tailors' ad- 
vertisements, and other shop-bills ; among them all, a 
small painting of a drunken toper, sleeping on a bench 
beside the grog-shop, — a ragged, half-hatless, bloated, 
red-nosed, jolly, miserable-looking devil, very well done, 
and strangely suitable to the room in which it hangs. 
Round the walls are placed some half a dozen marble- 
topped tables, and a centre-table in the midst; most 
©f them strewn with theatrical and other show-bills; 
and the large theatre-bills, with their type of gigantic 
solidity and blackness, hung against the walls. 

Last evening, when I entered, there was one guest 
somewhat overcome with liquor, and slumbering with 
his chair tipped against one of the marble tables. In 
the course of a quarter of an hour, he roused himself 
(a plain, middle-aged man), and went out with rather 
an unsteady step, and a hot, red face. One or two 
others were smoking, and looking over the papers, or 
glancing at a play-bill. From the centre of the ceil- 
ing descended a branch with two gas-burners, which 
sufficiently illuminated every corner of the room. 
Nothing is so remarkable in these bar-rooms and 
drinking-plaees, as the perfect order that prevails : if 
a man gets drunk, it is no otherwise perceptible than 
by his going to sleep, or his inability to walk. 

Pacing the sidewalk in front of this grog-shop of 
Parker's (or sometimes, on cold and rainy days, tak- 
ing his station inside), there is generally to be ob- 
served an elderly ragamuffin, in a dingy and battered 
hat, an old surtout, and a more than shabby general 
aspect ; a thin face and red nose, a patch over one 
eye, and the other half drowned in moisture. He 
leans in a slightly stooping posture on a stick, forlorn 



1850.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 377 

and silent, addressing nobody, but fixing bis one moist 
eye on you with a certain intentness. He is a man 
who bas been in decent circumstances at some former 
period of bis life, but, falling into decay (perbaps by 
dint of too frequent visits at Parker's bar), be now 
baunts about tbe place, as a gbost baunts the spot 
where be was murdered, "to collect bis rents," as 
Parker says, — that is, to catcb an occasional nine- 
pence from some charitable acquaintances, or a glass 
of liquor at tbe bar. Tbe word " ragamuffin," which 
I have used above, does not accurately express tbe 
man, because there is a sort of shadow or delusion of 
respectability about him, and a sobriety too, and a 
kind of decency in bis groggy and red-nosed destitu- 
tion. 

Underground, beneath the drinking and smoking 
rooms, is Parker's eating-ball, extending all the way 
to Court Street. All sorts of good eating may be bad 
there, and a gourmand may feast at what expense he 
will. 

I take an interest in all tbe nooks and crannies and 
every development of cities ; so here I try to make a 
description of the view from tbe back windows of a 
bouse in tbe centre of Boston, at which I now glance 
in the intervals of writing. The view is bounded, at 
perbaps thirty yards' distance, by a row of opposite 
brick dwellings, standing, I think, on Temple Place ; 
bouses of tbe better order, with tokens of genteel fam- 
ilies visible in all the rooms betwixt tbe basements 
and tbe attic windows in tbe roof ; plate-glass in the 
rear drawing-rooms, flower-pots in some of the win- 
dows of the upper stories. Occasionally, a lady's 
figure, either seated or appearing with a flitting grace, 



378 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1850. 

or dimly manifest farther within the obscurity of the 
room. A balcony, with a wrought-iron fence running 
along under the row of drawing-room windows, above 
the basement. In the space betwixt the opposite row 
of dwellings and that in which I am situated are the 
low out-houses of the above-described houses, with flat 
roofs ; or solid brick walls, with walks on them, and; 
high railings, for the convenience of the washerwomen 
in hanging out their clothes. In the intervals are 
grass-plots, already green, because so sheltered ; and 
fruit-trees, now beginning to put forth their leaves, 
and one of them, a cherry-tree, almost in full blossom. 
Birds flutter and sing among these trees. I should 
judge it a good site for the growth of delicate fruit ; 
for, quite enclosed on all sides by houses, the blighting 
winds cannot molest the trees. They have sunshine 
on them a good part of the day, though the shadow 
must come early, and I suppose there is a rich soil 
about the roots. I see grapevines clambering against 
one wall, and also peeping over another, where the 
main body of the vine is invisible to me. In another 
place, a frame is erected for a grapevine, and probably 
it will produce as rich clusters as the vines of Madeira 
here in the heart of the city, in this little spot of fruc- 
tifying earth, while the thunder of wheels rolls about 
it on every side. The trees are not all fruit-trees. 
One pretty well-grown buttonwood-tree aspires upward 
above the roofs of the houses. In the full verdure of 
summer, there will be quite a mass or curtain of foli- 
age between the hither and the thither row of houses. 

Afternoon. — At eleven, I went to give Mr. Thomp- 
son a sitting for my picture. I like the painter. He 
seems to reverence his art, and to aim at truth in it, 



1850.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 379 

as I said before ; a man of gentle disposition too. and 
simplicity of life and character. I seated myself in 
the pictorial chair, with the only light in the room 
descending upon me from a high opening, almost at 
the ceiling, the rest of the sole window being shut- 
tered. He began to work, and we talked in an idle 
and desultory way, — neither of us feeling very con- 
versable, — which he attributed to the atmosphere, it 
being a bright, westwindy, bracing day. We talked 
about the pictures of Christ, and how inadequate and 
untrue they are. He said he thought artists should 
attempt only to paint child-Christ s, human powers be- 
ing inadequate to the task of painting such purity and 
holiness in a manly development. Then he said that 
an idea of a picture had occurred to him that morning 
while reading a chapter in the New Testament, — how 
" they parted his garments among them, and for his 
vesture did cast lots." His picture was to represent 
the soldier to whom the garment without a seam had 
fallen, after taking it home and examining it, and be- 
coming impressed with a sense of the former wearer's 
holiness. I do not quite see how he would make such 
a picture tell its own story ; — but I find the idea sug- 
gestive to my own mind, and I think I could make 
something of it. We talked of physiognomy and im- 
pressions of character, — first impressions, — and how 
apt they are to come aright in the face of the closest 
subsequent observation. 

There were several visitors in the course of the sit- 
ting, one a gentleman, a connection from the coun* 
try, with whom the artist talked about family matters 
and personal affairs, — observing on the poorness of 
his own business, and that he had thoughts of return, 
ing to New York. I wish he would meet with better 



380 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1850. 

success. Two or three ladies also looked in. Mean- 
while Mr. Thompson had been painting with more and 
more eagerness, casting quick, keen glances at me, and 
then making hasty touches on the picture, as if to se- 
cure with his brush what he had caught with his eye. 
He observed that he was just getting interested in the 
work, and I could recognize the feeling that was in 
him as akin to what I have experienced myself in the 
glow of composition. Nevertheless, he seemed able to 
talk about foreign matters, through it all. He con- 
tinued to paint in this rapid way, up to the moment 
of closing the sitting ; when he took the canvas from 
the easel, without giving me time to mark what prog- 
ress he had made, as he did the last time. 

The artist is middle-sized, thin, a little stooping, with 
a quick, nervous movement. He has black hair, not 
thick, a beard under his chin, a small head, but well- 
developed forehead, black eyebrows, eyes keen, but 
kindly, and a dark face, not indicating robust health, 
but agreeable in its expression. His voice is gentle 
and sweet, and such as comes out from amidst refined 
feelings. He dresses very simply and unpictorially in 
a gray frock or sack, and does not seem to think of 
making a picture of himself in his own person. 

At dinner to-day there was a young Frenchman, 

whom befriended a year or so ago, when he had 

not another friend in America, and obtained employ- 
ment for him in a large dry-goods establishment. He 
is a young man of eighteen or thereabouts, with smooth 
black hair, neatly dressed ; his face showing a good 
disposition, but with nothing of intellect or character. 
It is funny to think of this poor little Frenchman, a 
Parisian too, eating our most un-French victuals, — 
our beefsteaks, and roasts, and various homely pud- 



1850.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 381 

dings, and hams, and all things most incongruent to 
his hereditary stomach ; but nevertheless he eats most 
cheerfully and uncomplainingly. He has not a large 
measure of French vivacity, never rattles, never dances, 
nor breaks into ebullitions of mirth and song ; on the 
contrary, I have never known a youth of his age more 
orderly and decorous. He is kind-hearted and grate- 
ful, and evinces his gratitude to the mother of the 
family and to his benefactress by occasional presents, 
not trifling when measured by his small emolument of 
five dollars per week. Just at this time he is confined 
to his room by indisposition, caused, it is suspected, 
by a spree on Sunday last. Our gross Saxon orgies 
would soon be the ruin of his French constitution. 

A thought to-day. Great men need to be lifted 
upon the shoulders of the whole world, in order to 
conceive their great ideas or perform their great deeds. 
That is, there must be an atmosphere of greatness 
round about them. A hero cannot be a hero unless 
in an heroic world. 

May 8th. — I went last evening to the National 
Theatre to see a pantomime. It was Jack the Giant- 
Killer, and somewhat heavy and tedious. The audi- 
ence was more noteworthy than the play. The thea- 
tre itself is for the middling and lower classes, and I 
had not taken my seat in the most aristocratic part of 
the house ; so that I found myself surrounded chiefly 
by young sailors, Hanover Street shopmen, mechan- 
ics, and other people of that class. It is wonderful ! 
the difference that exists in the personal aspect and 
dress, and no less in the manners, of people in this 
quarter of the city, as compared with other parts of it 



382 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1850. 

One would think that Oak Hall should give a com- 
mon garb and air to the great mass of the Boston pop- 
ulation ; but it seems not to be so ; and perhaps what 
is most singular is, that the natural make of the men 
has a conformity and suitableness to the dress. Glazed 
caps and Palo Alto hats were much worn. It is a 
pity that this picturesque and comparatively graceful 
hat should not have been generally adopted, instead 
of falling to the exclusive use of a rowdy class. 

In the next box to me were two young women, with 
an infant, but to which of them appertaining I could 
not at first discover. One was a large, plump girl, 
with a heavy face, a snub nose, coarse-looking, but 
good-natured, and with no traits of evil, — save, in- 
deed, that she had on the vilest gown of dirty white 
cotton, so pervadingly dingy that it was white no 
longer, as it seemed to me. The sleeves were short, 
and ragged at the borders, and her shawl, ^which she 
took off on account of the heat, was old and faded, — 
the shabbiest and dirtiest dress that I ever saw a 
woman wear. Yet she was plump, and looked com- 
fortable in body and mind. I imagine that she must 
have had a better dress at home, but had come to the 
theatre extemporaneously, and, not going to the dress 
circle, considered her ordinary gown good enough for 
the occasion. The other girl seemed as young or 
younger than herself. She was small, with a particu- 
larly intelligent and pleasant face, not handsome, per- 
haps, but as good or better than if it were. It was 
mobile with whatever sentiment chanced to be in her 
mind, as quick and vivacious a face in its movements 
as I have ever seen ; cheerful, too, and indicative of a 
sunny, though I should think it might be a hasty, tem- 
per. She was dressed in a dark gown (chintz, I sup* 



1850.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 383 

pose, the women call it), a good, homely dress, proper 
enough for the fireside, but a strange one to appear in 
at a theatre. Both these girls appeared to enjoy them- 
selves very much, — the large and heavy one in her 
own duller mode ; the smaller manifesting her interest 
by gestures, pointing at the stage, and with so vivid a J 
talk of countenance that it was precisely as if she had \ 
spoken. She was not a brunette, and this made the 
vivacity of her expression the more agreeable. Her 
companion, on the other hand, was so dark, that I 
rather suspected her to have a tinge of African blood. 

There were two men who seemed to have some con- 
nection with these girls, — one an elderly, gray-headed 
personage, well-stricken in liquor, talking loudly and 
foolishly, but good-humoredly ; the other a young man, 
sober, and doing his best to keep his elder friend 
quiet. The girls seemed to give themselves no uneasi- 
ness about the matter. Both the men wore Palo Alto 
hats. I could not make out whether either of the men 
were the father of the child, though I was inclined to 
set it down as a family party. 

As the play went on, the house became crowded 
and oppressively warm, and the poor little baby grew 
dark red, or purple almost, with the uncomfortable 
heat in its small body. It must have been accustomed 
to discomfort, and have concluded it to be the condi- 
tion of mortal life, else it never would have remained 
so quiet. Perhaps it had been quieted with a sleep ' 
ing-potion. The two young women were not negligent 
of it ; but passed it to and fro between them, each 
willingly putting herself to inconvenience for the sake 
of tending it. But I really feared it might die in 
some kind of a fit, so hot was the theatre, so purple 
with heat, yet strangely quiet, was the child. I was 



384 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1850. 

glad to hear it cry at last ; but it did not cry with any 
great rage and vigor, as it should, but in a stupid 
kind of way. Hereupon the smaller of the two girls, 
after a little inefficacious dandling, at once settled the 
question of maternity by nursing her baby. Children 
must be hard to kill, however injudicious the treat= 
ment. The two girls and their cavaliers remained till 
nearly the close of the play. I should like well to 
know who they are, — of what condition in life, and 
whether reputable as members of the class to which 
they belong. My own judgment is that they are so. 
Throughout the evening, drunken young sailors kept 
stumbling into and out of the boxes, calling to one an- 
other from different parts of the house, shouting to the 
performers, and singing the burden of songs. It was 
a scene of life in the rough. 

May 14:th. — A stable opposite the house, — an old 
wooden construction, low, in three distinct parts ; the 
centre being the stable proper, where the horses are 
kept, and with a chamber over it for the hay. On 
one side is the department for chaises and carriages ; 
on the other, the little office where the books are kept. 
In the interior region of the stable everything is dim 
and undefined, — half -traceable outlines of stalls, 
sometimes the shadowy aspect of a horse. Generally 
a groom is dressing a horse at the stable door, with a 
care and accuracy that leave no part of the animal un- 
visited by the currycomb and brush ; the horse, mean- 
while, evidently enjoying it, but sometimes, when the 
more sensitive parts are touched, giving a half-playful 
kick with his hind legs, and a little neigh. If the 
men bestowed half as much care on their own per- 
sonal cleanliness, they would be all the better and 



1850.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 385 

healthier men therefor. They appear to be busy men, 
these stablers, yet have a lounging way with them, 
as if indolence were somehow diffused through their 
natures. The apparent head of the establishment is 
a sensible, thoughtful - looking, large - featured, and 
homely man, past the middle age, clad rather shabbily 
in gray, stooping somewhat, and without any smart- 
ness about him. There is a groom, who seems to be a 
very comfortable kind of personage, — a man of forty- 
five or thereabouts (R. W. Emerson says he was one 
of his schoolmates), but not looking so old ; corpulent, 
not to say fat, with a white frock, which his goodly 
bulk almost fills, enveloping him from neck nearly to 
ankles. On his head he wears a cloth cap of a jockey 
shape ; his pantaloons are turned up an inch or two at 
bottom, and he wears brogans on his feet. His hair, 
as may be seen when he takes off his cap to wipe his 
brow, is black and in perfect preservation, with not 
exactly a curl, yet a vivacious and elastic kind of twist 
in it. His face is fresh - colored, comfortable, suffi- 
ciently vivid in expression, not at all dimmed by his 
fleshly exuberance, because the man possesses vigor 
enough to carry it off. His bodily health seems per- 
fect ; so, indeed, does his moral and intellectual. He 
is very active and assiduous in his duties, currycomb- 
ing and rubbing down the horses with alacrity and 
skill ; and, when not otherwise occupied, you may see 
him talking jovially with chance acquaintances, or ob- 
serving what is going forward in the street. If a 
female acquaintance happens to pass, he touches his 
jockey cap, and bows, accomplishing this courtesy with 
a certain smartness that proves him a man of the 
world. Whether it be his greater readiness to talk T 
or the wisdom of what he says, he seems usually to be 
vol. ix. 25 



386 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1850. 

the centre talker of the group. It is very pleasant to 
see such an image of earthly comfort as this. A fat 
man who feels his flesh as a disease and encumbrance, 
and on whom it presses so as to make him melancholy 
with dread of apoplexy, and who moves heavily under 
the burden of himself, — such a man is a doleful and 
disagreeable object. But if he have vivacity enough 
to pervade all his earthiness, and bodily force enough 
to move lightly under it, and if it be not too unmeas- 
ured to have a trimness and briskness in it, then it is 
good and wholesome to look at him. 

In the background of the house, a cat, occasionally 
stealing along on the roofs of the low out-houses ; de- 
scending a flight of wooden steps into the brick area ; 
investigating the shed, and entering all dark and se- 
cret places ; cautious, circumspect, as if in search of 
something ; noiseless, attentive to every noise. Moss 
grows on spots of the roof; there are little boxes of 
earth here and there, with plants in them. The grass- 
plots appertaining to each of the houses whose rears 
are opposite ours (standing in Temple Place) are per- 
haps ten or twelve feet broad, and three times as long. 
Here and there is a large, painted garden-pot, half 
buried in earth. Besides the large trees in blossom, 
there are little ones, probably of last year's setting 
out. Early in the day chambermaids are seen hang- 
ing the bedclothes out of the upper windows ; at the 
window of the basement of the same house, I see a 
woman ironing. Were I a solitary prisoner, I should 
not doubt to find occupation of deep interest for my 
whole day in watching only one of the houses. One 
house seems to be quite shut up; all the blinds in the 
three windows of each of the four stories being closed, 
although in the roof -windows of the attic story the cur- 



1850.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 387 

tains are hung carelessly upward, instead of being 
drawn. I think the house is empty, perhaps for the 
summer. The visible side of the whole row of houses 
is now in the shade, — they looking towards, I should 
say, the southwest. Later in the day, they are wholly 
covered with sunshine, and continue so through the 
afternoon ; and at evening the sunshine slowly with* 
draws upward, gleams aslant upon the windows, 
perches on the chimneys, and so disappears. The up- 
per part of the spire and the weathercock of the Park 
Street Church appear over one of the houses, looking 
as if it were close behind. It shows the wind to be 
east now. At one of the windows of the third story 
sits a woman in a colored dress, diligently sewing on 
something white. She sews, not like a lady, but with 
an occupational air. Her dress, I observe, on closer 
observation, is a kind of loose morning sack, with, 1 
think, a silky gloss on it ; and she seems to have a sil- 
ver comb in her hair, — no, this latter item is a mis- 
take. Sheltered as the space is between the two rows 
of houses, a puff of the east-wind finds its way in, and 
shakes off some of the withering blossoms from the 
cherry-trees,. 

Quiet as the prospect is, there is a continual and 
near thunder of wheels proceeding from Washington 
Street. In a building not far off, there is a hall for 
exhibitions ; and sometimes, in the evenings, loud mu- 
sic is heard from it ; or, if a diorama be shown (that 
of Bunker Hill, for instance, or the burning of Mos- 
cow), an immense racket of imitative cannon and mus- 
ketry. 

May 16th. — It has been an easterly rain yesterday 
and to-day, with occasional lightings up, and then a 
heavy downfall of the gloom again. 



388 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1850. 

Scenes out of the rear windows, — the glistening 
roof of the opposite houses ; the chimneys, now and 
then choked with their own smoke, which a blast 
drives down their throats. The church -spire has a 
mist about it. Once this morning a solitary dove 
came and alighted on the peak of an attic window, and 
looked down into the areas, remaining in this position 
a considerable time. Now it has taken a flight, and 
alighted on the roof of this house, directly over the 
window at which I sit, so that I can look up and see 
its head and beak, and the tips of its claws. The 
roofs of the low out-houses are black with moisture ; 
the gutters are full of water, and there is a little pud- 
dle where there is a place for it in the hollow of a 
board. On the grass-plot are strewn the fallen blos- 
soms of the cherry-tree, and over the scene broods a 
parallelogram of sombre sky. Thus it will be all day 
as it was yesterday ; and, in the evening, one window 
after another will be lighted up in the drawing-rooms. 
Through the white curtains may be seen the gleam of 
an astral -lamp, like a fixed star. In the basement 
rooms, the work of the kitchen going forward ; in the 
upper chambers, here and there a light. 

In a bar-room, a large, oval basin let into the coun- 
ter, with a brass tube rising from the centre, out of 
which gushes continually a miniature fountain, and 
descends in a soft, gentle, never-ceasing rain into the 
basin, where swim a company of gold-fishes. Some 
of them gleam brightly in their golden armor ; others 
have a dull white aspect, going through some process 
of transformation. One would think that the atmos- 
phere, continually filled with tobacco - smoke, might 
impregnate the water unpleasantly for the scaly peo* 
pie ; but then it is continually flowing away and being 



1850.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 389 

renewed. And what if some toper should be seized 
with the freak of emptying his glass of gin or brandy 
into the basin, — ■ would the fishes die or merely get 

jolly? 

I saw, for a wonder, a man pretty drunk at Par- 
ker's the other evening, — a well-dressed man, of not 
ungentlemanly aspect. He talked loudly and foolishly, 
but in good phrases, with a great flow of language, 
and he was no otherwise impertinent than in address- 
ing his talk to strangers. Finally, after sitting a long 
time staring steadfastly across the room in silence, 
he arose, and staggered away as best he might, only 
showing his very drunken state when he attempted to 
walk. 

Old acquaintances, — a gentleman whom I knew 
ten years ago, brisk, active, vigorous, with a kind of 
fire of physical well-being and cheerful spirits glow- 
ing through him. Now, after a course, I presume, of 
rather free living, pale, thin, oldish, with a grave and 
care or pain worn brow, — yet still lively and cheerful 
in his accost, though with something invincibly sad- 
dened in his tones. Another, formerly commander of 
a revenue vessel, — a man of splendid epaulets and 
very aristocratic equipment and demeanor ; now out 
of service and without position, and changed into a 
brandy-burnt and rowdyish sort of personage. He 
seemed as if he might still be a gentleman if he 
would ; but his manners show a desperate state of 
mind by their familiarity, recklessness, the lack of any 
hedge of reserve about himself, while still he is evi- 
dently a man of the world, accustomed to good soci- 
ety. He has latterly, I think, been in the Russian 
service, and would very probably turn pirate on fair 
occasion. 



390 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1850. 

Z/enox, July 14rfh. — The tops of the chestnut-trees 
have a whitish appearance, they being, I suppose, in 
bloom. Red raspberries are just through the season. 

Language, — human language, — after all, is but 
little better than the croak and cackle of fowls and 
other utterances of brute nature, — sometimes not so 
adequate. 

July 16th. — The tops of the chestnut-trees are pe- 
culiarly rich, as if a more luscious sunshine were fall- 
ing on them than anywhere else. u Whitish," as 
above, don't express it. 

The queer gestures and sounds of a hen looking 
about for a place to deposit her egg ; her self-impor- 
tant gait ; the sideway turn of her head and cock of 
her eye, as she pries into one and another nook, croak- 
ing all the while, — evidently with the idea that the 
egg in question is the most important thing that has 
been brought to pass since the world began. A speck- 
led black and white and tufted hen of ours does it 
to most ludicrous perfection ; and there is something 
laughably womanish in it too. 

July 25th. — As I sit in my study, with the windows 
open, the occasional incident of the visit of some 
winged creature, — wasp, hornet, or bee, — entering 
out of the warm, sunny atmosphere, soaring round the 
room in large sweeps, then buzzing against the glass, 
as not satisfied with the place, and desirous of getting 
out. Finally, the joyous uprising curve with which, 
coming to the open part of the window, it emerges 
into the cheerful glow of the outside. 






1850.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 391 

August 4:th. — Dined at hotel with J. T. Fields and 
wife. Afternoon, drove with them to Pittsfield and 
called on Dr. Holmes. 

August 5th. — Drove with Fields and his wife to 
Stockbridge, being thereto invited by Mr. Field of 
Stockbridge, in order to ascend Monument Mountain* 
Found at Mr. Field's Dr. Holmes and Mr. Duyckinck 
of New York ; also Mr. Cornelius Matthews and Her- 
man Melville. Ascended the mountain : that is to 
say, Mrs. Fields and Miss Jenny Field, Mr. Field 
and Mr. Fields, Dr. Holmes, Messrs. Duyckinck, Mat- 
thews, Melville, Mr. Henry Sedgewick, and I, and 
were caught in a shower. Dined at Mr. Field's. Af- 
ternoon, under guidance of J. T. Headley, the party 
scrambled through the ice-glen. 

August 1th. — Messrs. Duyckinck, Matthews, Mel- 
ville, and Melville, Junior, called in the forenoon. 
Gave them a couple of bottles of Mr. Mansfield's 
champagne, and walked down to the lake with them. 
At twilight Mr. Edwin P. Whipple and wife called. 

August Sth. — Mr. and Mrs. Whipple took tea 
with us. 

August 12th. — Seven chickens hatched. J. T. 
Headley and brother called. Eight chickens. 

August 19th. — Monument Mountain, in the early 
sunshine ; its base enveloped in mist, parts of which 
are floating in the sky, so that the great hill looks 
really as if it were founded on a cloud. Just emerg- 
ing from the mist is seen a yellow field of rye, and, 
above that, forest. 



392 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1850. 

August 21st. — Eight more chickens hatched. As- 
cended a mountain with my wife ; a beautiful, mellow, 
autumnal sunshine. 

August 24ih. — In the afternoons, nowadays, this 
valley in which I dwell seems like a vast basin filled 
with golden sunshine as with wine. 

August 81st — J. E. Lowell called in the evening. 

September 1st. — Mr. and Mrs. Lowell called in the 
forenoon, on their way to Stockbridge or Lebanon, to 
meet Miss Bremer. 

September 2d. — " When I grow up," quoth J- 



in illustration of the might to which he means to at- 
tain, — " when I grow up, I shall be two men." 

September 3J. — Foliage of maples begins to change. 
Julian, after picking up a handful of autumnal maple- 
leaves the other day, — " Look, papa, here 's a bunch 

of fire ! " 

September 1th. — In a wood, a heap or pile of logs 
and sticks, that had been cut for firewood, and piled 
up square, in order to be carted away to the house 
when convenience served, — or, rather, to be sledded 
in sleighing time. But the moss had accumulated on 
them, and leaves falling over them from year to year 
and decaying, a kind of soil had quite covered them, 
although the softened outline of the woodpile was per- 
ceptible in the green mound. It was perhaps fifty 
years — perhaps more — since the woodman had cut 
and piled those logs and sticks, intending them for hia 



1850.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 393 

winter fires. But he probably needs no fire now. 
There was something strangely interesting in this sim- 
ple circumstance. Imagine the long - dead woodman, 
and his long - dead wife and family, and the old man 
who was a little child when the wood was cut, coming 
back from their graves, and trying to make a fire with 
this mossy fuel. 

September 19th. — Lying by the lake yesterday af- 
ternoon, with my eyes shut, while the waves and sun- 
shine were playing together on the water, the quick 
glimmer of the wavelets was perceptible through my 
closed eyelids. 

October 13th. — A windy day, with wind north- 
west, cool, with a prevalence of dull gray clouds over 
the sky, but with brief, quick glimpses of sunshine. 

The foliage having its autumn hues, Monument 
Mountain looks like a headless sphinx, wrapped in a 
rich Persian shawl. Yesterday, through a diffused 
mist, with the sun shining on it, it had the aspect of 
burnished copper. The sun - gleams on the hills are 
peculiarly magnificent just in these days. 

One of the children, drawing a cow on the black- 
board, says, " I '11 kick this leg out a little more," — a 
very happy energy of expression, completely identify- 
ing herself with the cow; or perhaps, as the cow's 
creator, conscious of full power over its movements. 

October 14th. — The brilliancy of the foliage has 
passed its acme ; and indeed it has not been so mag- 
nificent this season as in some others, owing to the 
gradual approaches of cooler weather, and there hav- 



394 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1850. 

ing been slight frosts instead of severe ones. There is 
still a shaggy richness on the hill-sides. 

October 16th. — A morning mist, filling up the 
whole length and breadth of the valley betwixt my 
house and Monument Mountain, the summit of the 
mountain emerging. The mist reaches almost to my 
window, so dense as to conceal everything, except that 
near its hither boundary a few ruddy or yellow tree- 
tops appear, glorified by the early sunshine, as is like- 
wise the whole mist-cloud. 

There is a glen between this house and the lake, 
through which winds a little brook with pools and tiny 
waterfalls over the great roots of trees. The glen is 
deep and narrow, and filled with trees ; so that, in the 
summer, it is all a dense shadow of obscurity. Now, 
the foliage of the trees being almost entirely a golden 
yellow, instead of being full of shadow, the glen is ab- 
solutely full of sunshine, and its depths are more brill- 
iant than the open plain or the mountain-tops. The 
trees are sunshine, and, many of the golden leaves be- 
ing freshly fallen, the glen is strewn with sunshine, 
amid which winds and gurgles the bright, dark little 
brook. 

December 1st, — I saw a dandelion in bloom near 
the lake. 

December 19th. — If the world were crumbled to 
the finest dust, and scattered through the universe, 
there would not be an atom of the dust for each star. 

" Generosity is the flower of justice." 



1850.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 395 

The print in blood of a naked foot to be traced 
through the street of a town. 

Sketch of a personage with the malignity of a witch, 
and doing the mischief attributed to one, — but by 
natural means ; breaking off love - affairs, teaching 
children vices, ruining men of wealth, etc. 

Ladislaus, King of Naples, besieging the city of 
Florence, agreed to show mercy, provided the inhabi- 
tants would deliver to him a certain virgin of famous 
beauty, the daughter of a physician of the city. When 
she was sent to the king, every one contributing some- 
thing to adorn her in the richest manner, her father 
gave her a perfumed handkerchief, at that time a uni- 
versal decoration, richly wrought. This handkerchief 
was poisoned with his utmost art, . . . and they pres- 
ently died in one another's arms. 

Of a bitter satirist, — of Swift, for instance, — it 
might be said, that the person or thing on which 
his satire fell shrivelled up as if the Devil had spit 
on it. 

The Fount of Tears, — a traveller to discover it, — 
and other similar localities. 

Benvenuto Cellini saw a Salamander in the house- 
hold fire. It was shown him by his father, in child- 
hood. 

For the virtuoso's collection, — the pen with which 
Faust signed away his salvation, with a drop of blood 
dried in it. 



AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1850. 

An article on newspaper advertisements, — a coun- 
try newspaper, methinks, rather than a city one. 

An eating-house, where all the dishes served out, 
even to the bread and salt, shall be poisoned with the 
adulterations that are said to be practised. Perhaps 
Death himself might be the cook. 

Personify the century, — talk of its present middle 
age, of its youth, and its adventures and prospects. 

An uneducated countryman, supposing he had a 
live frog in his stomach, applied himself to the study 
of medicine in order to find a cure for this disease ; 
and he became a profound physician. Thus misfor- 
tune, physical or moral, may be the means of educat- 
ing and elevating us. 

" Mather's Manuductio ad Ministerium," — or, 
" Directions for a Candidate " for the ministry, — with 
the autographs of four successive clergymen in it, all 
of them, at one time or another, residents of the Old 
Manse, — Daniel Bliss, 1734 ; William Emerson, 
1770 ; Ezra Ripley, 1781 ; and Samuel Ripley, son of 
the preceding. The book, according to a Latin mem- 
orandum, was sold to Daniel Bliss by Daniel Bre- 
mer, who, I suppose, was another student of divinity. 
Printed at Boston " for Thomas Hancock, and sold at 
his shop in Ann St. near the Draw Bridge, 1726." 
William Emerson was son-in-law of Daniel Bliss. 
Ezra Ripley married the widow of said William Em- 
erson, and Samuel Ripley was their son. 

Mrs. Prescott has an ox whose visage bears a strong 
resemblance to Daniel Webster, — a majestic brute. 



1850.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS, 397 

The spells of witches have the power of producing 
meats and viands that have the appearance of a sump- 
tuous feast, which the Devil furnishes. But a Divine 
Providence seldom permits the meat to be good, but it 
has generally some bad taste or smell, — mostly wants 
salt, — and the feast is often without bread. 

An article on cemeteries, with fantastic ideas of 
monuments ; for instance, a sundial ; — a large, wide 
carved stone chair, with some such motto as " Rest 
and Think," and others, facetious or serious. 

" Mamma, I see a part of your smile," — a child to 
her mother, whose mouth was partly covered by her 
hand. 

" The syrup of my bosom," — an improvisation of a 
little girl, addressed to an imaginary child. 

"The wind-turn," "the lightning-catch," a child's 
phrases for weathercock and lightning-rod. 

" Where 's the man-mountain of these Liliputs ? " 
cried a little boy, as he looked at a small engraving of 
the Greeks getting into the wooden horse. 

When the sun shines brightly on the new snow, we 
discover ranges of hills, miles away towards the south, 
which we have never seen before. 

To have the North Pole for a fishing-pole, and the 
Equinoctial Line for a fishing-line. 

If we consider the lives of the lower animals, we 



398 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1851. 

shall see in them a close parallelism to those of mor- 
tals, — toil, struggle, danger, privation, mingled with 
glimpses of peace and ease ; enmity, affection, a con- 
tinual hope of bettering themselves, although their ob- 
jects lie at less distance before them than ours can do. 
Thus, no argument for the imperfect character of oui 
existence and its delusory promises, and its apparent 
injustice, can be drawn in reference to our immortal- 
ity, without, in a degree, being applicable to our brute 
brethren. 

Lenox, February 12th, 1851. — A walk across the 
lake with Una. A heavy rain, some days ago, has 
melted a good deal of the snow on the intervening 
descent between our house and the lake ; but many 
drifts, depths, and levels yet remain ; and there is a 
frozen crust, sufficient to bear a man's weight, and 
very slippery. Adown the slopes there are tiny rivu- 
lets, which exist only for the winter. Bare, brown 
spaces of grass here and there, but still so infrequent 
as only to diversify the scene a little. In the woods, 
rocks emerging, and, where there is a slope immedi- 
ately towards the lake, the snow is pretty much gone, 
and we see partridge-berries frozen, and outer shells 
of walnuts, and chestnut - burrs, heaped or scattered 
among the roots of the trees. The walnut-husks mark 
the place where the boys, after nutting, sat down to 
clear the walnuts of their outer shell. The various 
species of pine look exceedingly brown just now, — 
less beautiful than those trees which shed their leaves. 
An oak-tree, with almost all its brown foliage still 
rustling on it. We clamber down the bank, and step 
upon the frozen lake. It was snow-covered for a con- 
siderable time ; but the rain overspread it with a sur- 



1851.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 399 

face of water, or imperfectly melted snow, which is 
now hard frozen again ; and the thermometer having 
been frequently below zero, I suppose the ice may be 
four or five feet thick. Frequently there are great 
cracks across it, caused, I suppose, by the air beneath, 
and giving an idea of greater firmness than if there 
were no cracks ; round holes, which have been hewn in 
the marble pavement by fishermen, and are now frozen 
over again, looking darker than the rest of the sur- 
face ; spaces where the snow was more imperfectly dis- 
solved than elsewhere ; little crackling spots, where a 
thin surface of ice, over the real mass, crumples be- 
neath one's foot ; the track of a line of footsteps, most 
of them vaguely formed, but some quite perfectly, 
where a person passed across the lake while its sur- 
face was in a state of slush, but which are now as 
hard as adamant, and remind one of the traces discov- 
ered by geologists in rocks that hardened thousands 
of ages ago. It seems as if the person passed when 
the lake was in an intermediate state between ice and 
water. In one spot some pine boughs, which some- 
body had cut and heaped there for an unknown pur- 
pose. In the centre of the lake, we see the surround- 
ing hills in a new attitude, this being a basin in the 
midst of them. Where they are covered with wood, 
the aspect is gray or black ; then there are bare slopes 
of unbroken snow, the outlines and indentations being 
much more hardly and firmly defined than in summer. 
We went southward across the lake, directly towards 
Monument Mountain, which reposes, as I said, like 
a headless sphinx. Its prominences, projections, and 
roughnesses are very evident ; and it does not present 
a smooth and placid front, as when the grass is green 
and the trees in leaf. At one end, too, we are sensi* 



400 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1851. 

ble of precipitous descents, black and shaggy with the 
forest that is likely always to grow there ; and, in one 
streak, a headlong sweep downward of snow. We 
just set our feet on the farther shore, and then im- 
mediately returned, facing the northwest-wind, which 
blew very sharply against us. 

After landing, we came homeward, tracing up the 
little brook so far as it lay in our course. It was con- 
siderably swollen, and rushed fleetly on its course be- 
tween overhanging banks of snow and ice, from which 
depended adamantine icicles. The little waterfalls 
with which we had impeded it in the summer and au- 
tumn could do no more than form a large ripple, so 
much greater was the volume of water. In some 
places the crust of frozen snow made a bridge quite 
over the brook ; so that you only knew it was there by 
its brawling sound beneath. 

The sunsets of winter are incomparably splendid, 
and when the ground is covered with snow, no brill- 
iancy of tint expressible by words can come within an 
infinite distance of the effect. Our southern view at 
that time, with the clouds and atmospherical hues, is 
quite indescribable and unimaginable ; and the various 
distances of the hills which lie between us and the re- 
mote dome of Taconic are brought out with an accu- 
racy unattainable in summer. The transparency of the 
air at this season has the effect of a telescope in bring- 
ing objects apparently near, while it leaves the scene 
all its breadth. The sunset sky, amidst its splendor, 
has a softness and delicacy that impart themselves to 
a white marble world. 

February, 18th. — A walk, yesterday afternoon, with 
the children $ a bright, and rather cold day, breezy 






1851.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 401 

from the north and westward. There has been a good 
deal of soaking rain lately, and it has, in great meas- 
ure, cleared hills and plains of snow, only it may be 
seen lying in spots, and on each side of stone-walls, in 
a pretty broad streak. The grass is brown and with- 
ered, and yet, scattered all amongst it, on close inspec- 
tion, one finds a greenness, — little shrubs that have 
kept green under all the severity of winter, and seem 
to need no change to fit them for midsummer. In the 
woods we see stones covered with moss that retains 
likewise a most lively green. Where the trees are 
dense, the snow still lies under them. On the sides 
of the mountains, some miles off, the black pines and 
the white snow among them together produce a gray 
effect. The little streams are most interesting objects 
at this time ; some that have an existence only at this 
season, — Mississippis of the moment, — yet glide 
and tumble along as if they were perennial. The fa- 
miliar ones seem strange by their breadth and volume ; 
their little waterfalls set off by glaciers on a small 
scale. The sun has by this time force enough to make 
sheltered nooks in the angles of woods, or on banks, 
warm and comfortable. The lake is still of adaman- 
tine substance, but all round the borders there is a 
watery margin, altogether strewed or covered with 
thin and broken ice, so that I could not venture on it 
with the children. A chickadee was calling in the 
woods yesterday, — the only small bird I have taken 
note of yet ; but crows have been cawing in the woods 
for a week past, though not in very great numbers. 

February 22d. — For the last two or three days 
there has been a warm, soaking, southeasterly rain, 
with a spongy moisture diffused through the atmos- 

vol. ix. 26 



402 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1851. 

phere. The snow has disappeared, except in spots 
which are the ruins of high drifts, and patches far up 
on the hill-sides. The mists rest all day long on the 
brows of the hills that shut in our valley. The road 
over which I walk every day to and from the village 
is in the worst state of mud and mire, soft, slippery, 
nasty to tread upon ; while the grass beside it is 
scarcely better, being so oozy and so overflowed with 
little streams, and sometimes an absolute bog. The 
rivulets race along the road, adown the hills ; and 
wherever there is a permanent brooklet, however gen- 
erally insignificant, it is now swollen into importance, 
and the rumble and tumble of its waterfalls may be 
heard a long way off. The general effect of the day 
and scenery is black, black, black. The streams are all 
as turbid as mud-puddles. 

Imitators of original authors might be compared to 
plaster casts of marble statues, or the imitative book 
to a cast of the original marble. 

March 11th. — After the ground had been com- 
pletely freed of snow, there has been a snow-storm for 
the two days preceding yesterday, which made the 
earth all white again. This morning at sunrise, the 
thermometer stood at about 18° above zero. Monu- 
ment Mountain stands out in great prominence, with 
its dark forest-covered sides, and here and there a 
large, white patch, indicating tillage or pasture land ; 
but making a generally dark contrast with the white 
expanse of the frozen and snow -covered lake at its 
base, and the more undulating white of the surround- 
ing country. Yesterday, under the sunshine of mid- 
day, and with many voluminous clouds hanging over 



1851.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 403 

it, and a mist of wintry warmth in the air, it had a 
kind of visionary aspect, although still it was brought 
out in striking relief. But though one could see all 
its bulgings, round swells, and precipitous abrupt- 
nesses, it looked as much akin to the clouds as to solid 
earth and rock substance. In the early sunshine of 
the morning, the atmosphere being very clear, I saw 
the dome of Taconic with more distinctness than ever 
before, the snow-patches, and brown, uncovered soil on 
its round head, being fully visible. Generally it is 
but a dark blue unvaried mountain-top. All the rug- 
gedness of the intervening hill-country was likewise 
effectively brought out. There seems to be a sort of 
illuminating quality in new snow, which it loses after 
being exposed for a day or two to the sun and atmos- 
phere. 

For a child's story, — the voyage of a little boat 
made of a chip, with a birch-bark sail, down a river. 

March &lst. — A walk with the children yesterday 
forenoon. We went through the wood, where we 
found partridge-berries, half hidden among the dry, 
fallen leaves ; thence down to the brook. This little 
brook has not cleansed itself from the disarray of the 
past autumn and winter, and is much embarrassed 
and choked up with brown leaves, twigs, and bits of 
branches. It rushes along merrily and rapidly, gur- 
gling cheerfully, and tumbling over the impediments 
of stones with which the children and I made little 
waterfalls last year. At many spots, there are small 
basins or pools of calmer and smoother depth, — three 
feet, perhaps, in diameter, and a foot or two deep, — in 
which little fish are already sporting about ; all else- 



404 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1851. 

where is tumble and gurgle and mimic turbulence. I 
sat on the withered leaves at the foot of a tree, while 
the children played, a little brook being the most fas- 
cinating plaything that a child can have. Una jumped 
to and fro across it ; Julian stood beside a pool fish- 
ing with a stick, without hook or line, and wondering 
that he caught nothing. Then he made new water- 
falls with mighty labor, pulling big stones out of the 
earth, and flinging them into the current. Then they 
sent branches of trees, or the outer shells of walnuts, 
sailing down the stream, and watched their passages 
through the intricacies of the way, — how they were 
hurried over in a cascade, hurried dizzily round in a 
whirlpool, or brought quite to a stand-still amongst 
the collected rubbish. At last Julian tumbled into the 
brook, and was wetted through and through, so that 
we were obliged to come home ; he squelching along 
all the way, with his india-rubber shoes full of water. 

There are still patches of snow on the hills ; also 
in the woods, especially on the northern margins. 
The lake is not yet what we may call thawed out, al- 
though there is a large space of blue water, and the 
ice is separated from the shore everywhere, and is soft, 
water-soaked, and crumbly. On favorable slopes and 
exposures, the earth begins to look green ; and almost 
anywhere, if one looks closely, one sees the greenness 
of the grass, or of little herbage, amidst the brown. 
Under the nut-trees are scattered some of the nuts of 
last year ; the walnuts have lost their virtue, the chest- 
nuts do not seem to have much taste, but the butter= 
nuts are in no manner deteriorated. The warmth of 
these days has a mistiness, and in many respects re- 
sembles the Indian summer, and is not at all provo- 
cative of physical exertion. Nevertheless, the general 



1851.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 405 

impression is of life, not death. One feels that a new 
season has begun. 

Wednesday, April $th. — There was a great rain 
yesterday, — wind from the southeast, and the last 
visible vestige of snow disappeared. It was a small 
patch near the summit of Bald Mountain, just on the 
upper verge of a grove of trees. I saw a slight rem- 
nant of it yesterday afternoon, but to-day it is quite 
gone. The grass comes up along the roadside and on 
favorable exposures, with a sort of green blush. Frogs 
have been melodious for a fortnight, and the birds sing 
pleasantly. 

April 20th. — The children found Houstonias more 
than a week ago There have been easterly wind, 
continual cloudiness, and occasional rain, for a week. 
This morning opened with a great snow-storm from the 
northeast, one of the most earnest snow-storms of the 
year, though rather more moist than in midwinter. 
The earth is entirely covered. Now, as the day ad- 
vances towards noon, it shows some symptoms of turn- 
ing to rain. 

April 28th. — For a week we have found the trail- 
ing arbutus pretty abundant in the woods. A day or 
two since, Una found a few purple violets, and yester- 
day a dandelion in bloom. The fragrance of the arbu- 
tus is spicy and exquisite. 

May 16th. — In our walks now, the children and I 
find blue, white, and golden violets, the former, espe- 
cially, of great size and richness. Houstonias are 
abundant, blue-whitening some of the pastures. They 



406 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1851. 

are a very sociable little flower, and dwell close to- 
gether in communities, — sometimes covering a space 
no larger than the palm of the hand, but keeping one 
another in cheerful heart and life, — sometimes they 
occupy a much larger space. Lobelia, a pink flower, 
growing in the woods. Columbines, of a pale red, be- 
cause they have lacked sun, growing in rough and 
rocky places on banks in the copses, precipitating to- 
wards the lake. The leaves of the trees are not yet 
out, but are so apparent that the woods are getting 
a very decided shadow. Water-weeds on the edge of 
the lake, of a deep green, with roots that seem to have 
nothing to do with earth, but with water only. 

May 23d. — I think the face of nature can never 
look more beautiful than now, with this so fresh and 
youthful green, — the trees not being fully in leaf, yet 
enough so to give airy shade to the woods. The sun- 
shine fills them with green light. Monument Moun- 
tain and its brethren are green, and the lightness of 
the tint takes away something from their massiveness 
and ponderosity, and they respond with livelier effect to 
the shine and shade of the sky. Each tree now within 
sight stands out in its own individuality of hue. This 
is a very windy day, and the light shifts with magical 
alternation. In a walk to the lake just now with the 
children, we found abundance of flowers, — wild ge- 
ranium, violets of all families, red columbines, and 
many others known and unknown, besides innumera- 
ble blossoms of the wild strawberry, which has been in 
bloom for the past fortnight. The Houstonias seem 
quite to overspread some pastures, when viewed from 
a distance. Not merely the flowers, but the various 
shrubs which one sees, — seated, for instance, on the 



1851.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 407 

decayed trunk of a tree, — are well worth looking at, 
such a variety and such enjoyment they have of their 
new growth. Amid these fresh creations, we see others 
that have already run their course, and have done with 
warmth and sunshine, — the hoary periwigs, I mean, 
of dandelions gone to seed. 

August 1th. — Fourier states that, in the progress 
of the world, the ocean is to • lose its saltness, and ac- 
quire the taste of a peculiarly flavored lemonade. 

October 13th. — How pleasant it is to see a human 
countenance which cannot be insincere, — in reference 
to baby's smile. 

The best of us being unfit to die, what an inexpres- 
sible absurdity to put the worst to death ! 

" Is that a burden of sunshine on Apollo's back ? " 
asked one of the children, — of the chlamys on our 
Apollo Belvedere. 

October 21st — Going to the village yesterday af- 
ternoon, I saw the face of a beautiful woman, gazing 
at me from a cloud. It was the full face, not the bust. 
It had a sort of mantle on the head, and a pleasant 
expression of countenance. The vision lasted while I 
took a few steps, and then vanished. I never before 
saw nearly so distinct a cloud-picture, or rather sculp- 
ture ; for it came out in alto-rilievo on the body of the 
cloud. 

October 21th. — The ground this morning is white 
with a thin covering of snow. The foliage has still 



408 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1851. 

some variety of hue. The dome of Taconic looks 
dark, and seems to have no snow on it, though I don't 
understand how that can be. I saw, a moment ago, 
on the lake, a very singular spectacle. There is a high 
northwest-wind ruffling the lake's surface, and making 
it blue, lead-colored, or bright, in stripes or at inter- 
vals ; but what I saw was a boiling up of foam, which 
began at the right bank of the lake, and passed quite 
across it ; and the mist flew before it, like the cloud 
out of a steam-engine. A fierce and narrow blast of 
wind must have ploughed the water in a straight line, 
from side to side of the lake. As fast as it went on, 
the foam subsided behind it, so that it looked some- 
what like a sea-serpent, or other monster, swimming 
very rapidly. 

October 29#A. — On a walk to Scott's pond, with 
Ellery Channing, we found a wild strawberry in the 
woods, not quite ripe, but beginning to redden. For 
a week or two, the cider-mills have been grinding ap- 
ples. Immense heaps of apples lie piled near them, 
and the creaking of the press is heard as the horse 
treads on. Farmers are repairing cider-barrels ; and 
the wayside brook is made to pour itself into the 
bunghole of a barrel, in order to cleanse it for the 
new cider. 

November 3c?. — The face of the country is dreary 
now in a cloudy day like the present. The woods on 
the hill-sides look almost black, and the cleared spaces 
a kind of gray brown. 

Taconic, this morning (4th), was a black purple, as 
dense and distinct as Monument Mountain itself. I 
hear the creaking of the cider-press ; the patient horse 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 409 

going round and round, perhaps thirsty, to make the 
liquor which he never can enjoy. 

We left Lenox Friday morning, November 21, 
1851, in a storm of snow and sleet, and took the cars 
at Pittsfield, and arrived at West Newton that even- 
ing. 

Happiness in this world, when it comes, comes inci- 
dentally. Make it the object of pursuit, and it leads 
us a wild-goose chase, and is never attained. Follow 
some other object, and very possibly we may find that 
we have caught happiness without dreaming of it ; but 
likely enough it is gone the moment we say to our- 
selves, " Here it is ! " like the chest of gold that treas- 
ure-seekers find. 

West Newton, April 13zA, 1852. — One of the 
severest snow-storms of the winter. 

April ZOth. — Wrote the last page (199th MS.) of 
" The Blithedale Bomance." 

May 1st. — Wrote Preface. Afterwards modified 
the conclusion, and lengthened it to 201 pages. First 
proof-sheets, May 14. 

Concord, Mass., August 20th. — A piece of land 
contiguous to and connected with a handsome estate, 
to the adornment and good appearance of which it 
was essential. But the owner of the strip of land was 
at variance with the owner of the estate, so he always 
refused to sell it at any price, but let it lie there, wild 
and ragged, in front of and near the mansion-house. 



410 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

When he dies, the owner of the estate, who has re- 
joiced at the approach of the event all through his 
enemy's illness, hopes at last to buy it ; but, to his in- 
finite discomfiture, the enemy enjoined in his will that 
his body should be buried in the centre of this strip 
of land. All sorts of ugly weeds grow most luxuri- 
antly out of the grave in poisonous rankness. 

The Isles of Shoals, Monday, August 30th. — 
Left Concord at a quarter of nine A. M. Friday, Sep- 
tember 3, set sail at about half past ten to the Isles 
of Shoals. The passengers were an old master of a 
vessel ; a young, rather genteel man from Greenland, 
N. H. ; two Yankees from Hamilton and Dan vers ; 
and a country trader (I should judge) from some 
inland town of New Hampshire. The old sea-cap- 
tain, preparatory to sailing, bought a bunch of cigars 
(they cost ten cents), and occasionally puffed one. 
The two Yankees had brought guns on board, and 
asked questions about the fishing of the Shoals. They 
were young men, brothers, the youngest a shopkeeper 
in Danvers, the other a farmer, I imagine, at Hamil- 
ton, and both specimens of the least polished kind 
of Yankee, and therefore proper to those localities. 
They were at first full of questions, and greatly in- 
terested in whatever was going forward ; but anon 
the shopkeeper began to grow, first a little, then 
very sick, till he lay along the boat, longing, as he 
afterwards said, for a little fresh water to be drowned 
in. His brother attended him in a very kindly way, 
but became sick himself before he reached the end of 
the voyage. 

The young Greenlander talked politics, or rather 
discussed the personal character of Pierce. The New 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 411 

Hampshire trader said not a word, or hardly one, all 
the way. A Portsmouth youth (whom 1 forgot to 
mention) sat in the stern of the boat, looking very 
white. The skipper of the boat is a Norwegian, a 
good-natured fellow, not particularly intelligent, and 
speaking in a dialect somewhat like Irish. He had 
a man with him, a silent and rather sulky fellow, 
who, at the captain's bidding, grimly made himself 
useful. 

The wind not being favorable, we had to make sev- 
eral tacks before reaching the islands, where we ar- 
rived at about two o'clock. We landed at Appledore, 
on which is Laighton's Hotel, — a large building with 
a piazza or promenade before it, about an hundred 
and twenty feet in length, or more, — yes, it must be 
more. It is an edifice with a centre and two wings, 
the central part upwards of seventy feet. At one end 
of the promenade is a covered veranda, thirty or forty 
feet square, so situated that the breeze draws across 
it from the sea on one side of the island to the sea on 
the other, and it is the breeziest and comfortablest 
place in the world on a hot day. There are two 
swings beneath it, and here one may sit or walk, and 
enjoy life, while all other mortals are suffering. 

As I entered the door of the hotel, there met me a 
short, corpulent, round, and full-faced man, rather 
elderly, if not old. He was a little lame. He ad- 
dressed me in a hearty, hospitable tone, and, judg- 
ing that it must be my landlord, I delivered a letter 
of introduction from Pierce. Of course it was fully 
efficient in obtaining the best accommodations that 
were to be had. I found that we were expected, a 
man having brought the news of our intention the 
day before. Here ensued great inquiries after the 



412 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

General, and wherefore he had not come. I was 
looked at with considerable curiosity on my own ac- 
count, especially by the ladies, of whom there were 
several, agreeable and pretty enough. There were 
four or five gentlemen, most of whom had not much 
that was noteworthy. 

After dinner, which was good and abundant, though 
somewhat rude in its style, I was introduced by Mr. 
Laighton to Mr. Thaxter, his son-in-law, and Mr 
Weiss, a clergyman of New Bedford, who is staying 
here for his health. They showed me some of the re- 
markable features of the island, such as a deep chasm 
in the cliffs of the shore, towards the southwest ; also 
a monument of rude stones, on the highest point of 
the island, said to have been erected by Captain John 
Smith before the settlement at Plymouth. The tra- 
dition is just as good as truth. Also, some ancient 
cellars, with thistles and other weeds growing in them, 
and old fragmentary bricks scattered about. The date 
of these habitations is not known ; but they may well 
be the remains of the settlement that Cotton Mather 
speaks about ; or perhaps one of them was the house 
where Sir William Pepperell was born, and where he 
went when he and somebody else set up a stick, and 
travelled to seek their fortunes in the direction in 
which it fell. 

In the evening, the company at the hotel made up 
two whist parties, at one of which I sat down, — my 
partner being an agreeable young lady from Ports- 
mouth. We played till I, at least, was quite weary. 
It had been the beautifullest of weather all day, very 
hot on the mainland, but a delicious climate under 
our veranda. 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 413 

Saturday, September Mh. — Another beautiful day, 
rather cooler than the preceding, but not too cool. I 
can bear this coolness better than that of the interior. 
In the forenoon, I took passage for Star Island, in a 
boat that crosses daily whenever there are passengers. 
My companions were the two Yankees, who had quite 
recovered from yesterday's sickness, and were in the 
best of spirits and the utmost activity of mind of 
which they were capable. Never was there such a 
string of questions as they directed to the boatman, 
— questions that seemed to have no gist, so far as re- 
lated to any use that could be made of the answers. 
They appear to be very good young men, however, 
well-meaning, and with manners not disagreeable, be- 
cause their hearts are not amiss. Star Island is less 
than a mile from Appledore. It is the most populous 
island of the group, — has been, for three or four 
years, an incorporated township, and sends a repre- 
sentative to the New Hampshire legislature. The 
number of voters is variously represented as from 
eighteen to twenty-eight. The inhabitants are all, I 
presume, fishermen. Their houses stand in pretty 
close neighborhood to one another, scattered about 
without the slightest regularity or pretence of a street, 
there being no wheel-carriages on the island. Some 
of the houses are very comfortable two-story dwell- 
ings. I saw two or three, I think, with flowers. 
There are also one or two trees on the island. There 
is a strong odor of fishiness, and the little cove is full 
of mackerel-boats, and other small craft for fishing, 
in some of which little boys of no growth at all were 
paddling about. Nearly in the centre of this insular 
metropolis is a two - story house, with a flag - staff in 
the yard. This is the hotel. 



414 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

On the highest point of Star Island stands the 
church, — a small, wooden structure ; and, sitting in 
its shadow, I found a red-baize-shirted fisherman, who 
seemed quite willing to converse. He said that there 
was a minister here, who was also the schoolmaster ; 
but that he did not keep school just now, because his 
wife was very much out of health. The school-house 
stood but a little way from the meeting-house, and 
near it was the minister's dwelling ; and by and by I 
had a glimpse of the good man himself, in his suit of 
black, which looked in very decent condition at the 
distance from which I viewed it. His clerical air was 
quite distinguishable, and it was rather curious to see 
it, when everybody else wore red-baize shirts and fish- 
ing-boots, and looked of the scaly genus. He did not 
approach me, and I saw him no nearer. I soon grew 
weary of Gosport, and was glad to reembark, al- 
though I intend to revisit the island with Mr. Thax- 
ter, and see more of its peculiarities and inhabitants. 
I saw one old witch-looking woman creeping about 
with a cane, and stooping down, seemingly to gather 
herbs. On mentioning her to Mr. Thaxter, after my 
return, he said that it was probably " the bearded 
woman." I did not observe her beard ; but very 
likely she may have had one. 

The larger part of the company at the hotel re- 
turned to the mainland to-day. There remained be- 
hind, however, a Mr. T from Newburyport, — a 

man of natural refinement, and a taste for reading 
that seems to point towards the writings of Emerson, 
Thoreau, and men of that class. I have had a good 
deal of talk with him, and at first doubted whether he 
might not be a clergyman ; but Mr. Thaxter tells me 
that he has made his own way in the world, — was 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 415 

once a sailor before the mast, and is now engaged in 
mercantile pursuits. He looks like nothing of this 
kind, being tall and slender, with very quiet manners, 
not beautiful, though pleasing from the refinement 
that they indicate. He has rather a precise and care- 
ful pronunciation, but yet a natural way of talking. 

In the afternoon I walked round a portion of the isl- 
and that I had not previously visited, and in the even- 
ing went with Mr. Titcomb to Mr. Thaxter's to drink 
apple -toddy. We found Mrs. Thaxter sitting in a 
neat little parlor, very simply furnished, but in good 
taste. She is not now, I believe, more than eighteen 
years old, very pretty, and with the manners of a lady, 
— not prim and precise, but with enough of freedom 
and ease. The books on the table were " Pre-Rapha- 
elitism," a tract on spiritual mediums, etc. There were 
several shelves of books on one side of the room, and 
engravings on the walls. Mr. Weiss was there, and I 
do not know but he is an inmate of Mr. Thaxter's. 
By and by came in Mr. Thaxter's brother, with a 
young lady whose position I do not know, — either a 
sister or the brother's wife. Anon, too, came in the 
apple-toddy, a very rich and spicy compound ; after 
which we had some glees and negro melodies, in which 
Mr. Thaxter sang a noble bass, and Mrs. Thaxter 
sang like a bird, and Mr. Weiss sang, I suppose, 
tenor, and the brother took some other part, and all 
were very mirthful and jolly. At about ten o'clock 
Mr. Titcomb and myself took leave, and emerging 
into the open air, out of that room of song, and pretty 
youthfulness of woman, and gay young men, there 
was the sky, and the three-quarters waning moon, and 
the old sea moaning all round about the island. 



416 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

Sunday, September 5th. — To-day I have done little 
or nothing except to roam along the shore of the isl- 
and, and to sit under the piazza, talking with Mr. 
Laighton or some of his half-dozen guests ; and about 
an hour before dinner I came up to my room, and 
took a brief nap. Since dinner I have been writing 
the foregoing journal. I observe that the Fanny Ells- 
ler, our passenger and mail boat, has arrived from 
Portsmouth, and now lies in a little cove, moored to 
the rocky shore, with a flag flying at her main-mast. 
We have been watching her for some hours, but she 
stopped to fish, and then went to some other island, 
before putting in here. I must go and see what news 
she has brought. 

" What did you fire at? " asked one of the Yankees 
just now of a boy who had been firing a gun. "Noth- 
ing," said the boy. " Did you hit it ? " rejoined the 
Yankee. 

The farmer is of a much ruder and rougher mould 
than his brother, — heavier in frame and mind, and 
far less cultivated. It was on this account, probably, 
that he labored as a farmer, instead of setting up a 
shop. When it is warm, as yesterday, he takes off; 
his coat, and, not minding whether or no his shirt- 
sleeves be soiled, goes in this guise to meals or 
wherever else, — not resuming his coat as long as he 
is more comfortable without it. His shoulders have 
a stoop, and altogether his air is that of a farmer in 
repose. His brother is handsome, and might have 
quite the aspect of a smart, comely young man, if well 
dressed. 

This island is said to be haunted by a spectre called 
" Old Bab." He was one of Captain Kidd's men, and 
was slain for the protection of the treasure. Mr, 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 417 

Laighton said that, before he built bis bouse, nothing 
would have induced the inhabitant of another island 
to come to this after nightfall. The ghost especially 
haunts the space between the hotel and the cove in 
front. There has, in times past, been great search for 
the treasure. 

Mr. Thaxter tells me that the women on the island 
are very timid as to venturing on the sea, — more so 
than the women of the mainland, — and that they are 
easily frightened about their husbands. Very few ac- 
cidents happen to the boats or men, — none, I think, 
since Mr. Thaxter has been here. They are not an 
enterprising set of people, never liking to make long 
voyages. Sometimes one of them will ship on a voy- 
age to the West Indies, but generally only on coast- 
wise trips, or fishing or mackerel voyages. They have 
a very strong local attachment, and return to die. 
They are now generally temperate, formerly very 
much the contrary. 

September bth. — A large part of the guests took 
their departure after an early breakfast this morning, 
including Mr. Titcomb, Mr. Weiss, the two Yankees, 
and Mr. Thaxter, — who, however, went as skipper 
or supercargo, and will return with the boat. I have 
been fishing for cunners off the rocks, but with intol- 
erably poor success. There is nothing so dispiriting 
as poor fishing, and I spend most of the time with my 
head on my han/3s, looking at the sea breaking against 
the rocks, shagged around the bases with sea-weed. It 
is a sunny forenoon, with a cool breeze from the south- 
west. The mackerel craft are in the offing. Mr. 
Laighton says that the Spy (the boat which went to 
the mainland this morning) is now on her return with 

vol. ix. 27 



418 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

all her colors set; and he thinks that Pierce is on 
board, he having sent Mr. Thaxter to invite him to 
come in this boat. 

Pierce arrived before dinner in the Spy, accompanied 
by Judge Upham and his brother and their wives, his 
own wife, Mr. Furness, and three young ladies. After 
dinner some of the gentlemen crossed over to Gosport, 
where we visited the old graveyard, in which were 
monuments to Eev. Mr. Tucke (died 1773, after forty 
years' settlement) and to another and later minister of 
the island. They were of red freestone, lying horizon- 
tally on piles of the granite fragments, such as are 
scattered all about. There were other graves, marked 
by the rudest shapes of stones at head and foot. And 
so many stones protruded from the ground, that it 
was wonderful how space and depth enough was found 
between them to cover the dead. We went to the 
house of the town clerk of Gosport (a drunken fisher- 
man, Joe Caswell by name), and there found the town 
records, commencing in 1732, in a beautiful style of 
penmanship. They are imperfect, the township hav- 
ing been broken up, probably at the time of the Rev- 
olution. Caswell, being very drunk, immediately put 
in a petition to Pierce to build a sea -mole for the 
protection of the navigation of the island when he 
should be President. He was dressed in the ordinary 
fisherman's style, — red - baize shirt, trousers tucked 
into large boots, which, as he had just come ashore, 
were wet with salt water. 

He led us down to the shore of the island, towards 
the east, and showed us Betty Moody's Hole. This 
Betty Moody was a woman of the island in old times. 
The Indians came off on a depredating excursion, and 
she fled from them with a child, and hid herself in 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 419 

this hole, which is formed by several great rocks be- 
ing lodged so as to cover one of the fissures which are 
common along these shores. I crept into the hole, 
which is somewhat difficult of access, long, low, and 
narrow, and might well enough be a hiding - place - 
The child, or children, began to cry ; and Betty, fear- 
ful of discovery, murdered them to save herself. Joe 
Caswell did not tell the latter part of the story, but 
Mr. Thaxter did. 

Not far from the spot there is a point of rocks ex- 
tending out farther into the ocean than the rest of the 
island. Some four or five years ago there was a young 
woman residing at Gosport in the capacity of school- 
teacher. She was of a romantic turn, and used to go 
and sit on this point of rock to view the waves. One 
day, when the wind was high, and the surf raging 
against the rocks, a great wave struck her, as she sat 
on the edge, and seemed to deprive her of sense ; an- 
other wave, or the reflex of the same one, carried her 
off into the sea, and she was seen no more. This hap- 
pened, I think, in 1846. 

Passing a rock near the centre of the island, which 
rose from the soil about breast-high, and appeared to 
have been split asunder, with an incalculably aged 
and moss-grown fissure, the surfaces of which, how- 
ever, precisely suited each other, Mr. Hatch men- 
tioned that there was an idea among the people, with 
regard to rocks thus split, that they were rent asunder 
at the time of the Crucifixion. Judge Upham ob- 
served that this superstition was common in all parts 
of the country. 

Mr. Hatch said that he was professionally consulted 
the other day, by a man who had been digging for 
buried treasure at Dover Point, up the Piscataqua 



420 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

River ; and, while he and his companions were thus 
engaged, the owner of the land came upon them, and 
compelled Hatch's client to give him a note for a sum 
of money. The object was to inquire whether this 
note was obligatory. Hatch says that there are a 
hundred people now resident in Portsmouth, who, at 
one time or another, have dug for treasure. The pro- 
cess is, in the first place, to find out the site of the 
treasure by the divining-rod. A circle is then de- 
scribed with the steel rod about the spot, and a man 
walks around within its verge, reading the Bible, to 
keep off the evil spirit while his companions dig. If 
a word is spoken, the whole business is a failure. 
Once, the person who told him the story reached the 
lid of the chest, so that the spades plainly scraped 
upon it, when one of the men spoke, and the chest im- 
mediately moved sideways into the earth. Another 
time, when he was reading the Bible within the circle, 
a creature like a white horse, but immoderately large, 
came from a distance towards the circle, looked at 
him, and then began to graze about the spot. He saw 
the motion of the jaws, but heard no sound of champ- 
ing. His companions saw the gigantic horse pre- 
cisely as he did, only to them it appeared bay instead 
of white. 

The islanders stared with great curiosity at Pierce. 
One pretty young woman appeared inclined to engross 
him entirely to herself. 

There is a bowling-alley on the island, at which 
some of the young fishermen were rolling. 

September 1th. — . . . I have made no exploration 
to-day, except a walk with the guests in the morning, 
but have lounged about the piazza and veranda. It 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 421 

has been a calm, warm, sunny day, the sea slumbering 
against the shores, and now and then breaking into 
white foam. 

The surface of the island is plentifully overgrown 
with whortleberry and bayberry bushes. The sheep 
cut down the former, so that few berries are produced ; 
the latter gives a pleasant fragrance when pressed in 
the hand. The island is one great ledge of rock, four 
hundred acres in extent, with a little soil thrown scan- 
tily over it ; but the bare rock everywhere emerging, 
not only in points, but still more in flat surfaces. The 
only trees, I think, are two that Mr. Laighton has 
been trying to raise in front of the hotel, the taller of 
which looks scarcely so much as ten feet high. It is 
now about sunset, and the Fanny, with the mail, is 
just arrived at the moorings. So still is it, that the 
sounds on board (as of throwing oars into a small 
boat) are distinctly heard, though a quarter of a mile 
off. She has the Stars and Stripes flying at the main- 
mast. There appear to be no passengers. 

The only reptile on the island is a very vivid and 
beautiful green snake, which is exceedingly abundant. 
Yesterday, while catching grasshoppers for fish-bait, 1 
nearly griped one in my hand ; indeed, I rather think 
I did gripe it. The snake was as much startled as 
myself, and, in its fright, stood an instant on its tail, 
before it recovered presence of mind to glide away. 
These snakes are quite harmless. 

September 8th. — Last evening we could hear the 
roaring of the beaches at Hampton and Rye, nine 
miles off. The surf likewise swelled against the 
rocky shores of the island, though there was little 
or no wind, and, except for the swell, the surface was 



422 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

smooth. The sheep bleated loudly ; and all these to- 
kens, according to Mr. Laighton, foreboded a storm 
to windward. This morning, nevertheless, there were 
no further signs of it ; it is sunny and calm, or only 
the slightest breeze from the westward ; a haze sleep- 
ing along the shore, betokening a warm day ; the sur- 
face of the sea streaked with smoothness, and gentle 
ruffles of wind. It has been the hottest day that I 
have known here, and probably one of the hottest of 
the season ashore ; and the land is now imperceptible 
in the haze. 

Smith's monument is about seven feet high, and 
probably ten or twelve in diameter at its base. It is 
a cairn, or mere heap of stones, thrown together as 
they came to hand, though with some selection of large 
and flat ones towards the base, and with smaller ones 
thrown in. At the foundation, there are large rocks, 
naturally imbedded in the earth. I see no reason to 
disbelieve that a part of this monument may have 
been erected by Captain Smith, although subsequent 
visitors may have added to it. Laighton says it is 
known to have stood upwards of a hundred years. It 
is a work of considerable labor, and would more likely 
have been erected by one who supposed himself the 
first discoverer of the island than by anybody after- 
wards for mere amusement. I observed in some 
places, towards the base, that the lichens had grown 
from one stone to another ; and there is nothing in 
the appearance of the monument that controverts the 
supposition of its antiquity. It is an irregular circle, 
somewhat decreasing towards the top. Few of the 
stones, except at the base, are bigger than a man could 
easily lift, — many of them are not more than a foot 
across. It stands towards the southern part of the 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 423 

island ; and all the other islands are visible from it, — 
Smutty Nose, Star Island, and White Island, — on 
which is the light-house, — much of Laighton's island 
(the proper name of which is Hog, though latterly- 
called Appledore), and Duck Island, which looks like 
a mere reef of rocks, and about a mile farther into the 
ocean, easterly of Hog Island. 

Laighton's Hotel, together with the house in which 
his son-in-law resides, which was likewise built by 
Laighton, and stands about fifty yards from the hotel, 
occupies the middle of a shallow valley, which passes 
through the island from east to west. Looking from 
the veranda, you have the ocean opening towards the 
east, and the bay towards Rye Beach and Portsmouth 
on the west. In the same storm that overthrew Mi- 
not's Light, a year or two ago, a great wave passed 
entirely through this valley ; and Laighton describes 
it, when it came in from the sea, as toppling over to 
the height of the cupola of his hotel. It roared and 
whitened through, from sea to sea, twenty feet abreast, 
rolling along huge rocks in its passage. It passed be- 
neath his veranda, which stands on posts, and proba- 
bly filled the valley completely. Would I had been 
here to see ! 

The day has been exceedingly hot. Since dinner, 
the Spy has arrived from Portsmouth, with a party of 
half a dozen or more men and women and children, 
apparently from the interior of New Hampshire. I 
am rather sorry to receive these strangers into the 
quiet life that we are leading here ; for we had grown 
quite to feel ourselves at home, and the two young 
ladies, Mr. Thaxter, his wife and sister, and myself, 
met at meal-times like one family. The young ladies 
gathered shells, arranged them, laughed gently, sang, 



424 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

and did other pretty things in a young-lady-like way. 
These new-comers are people of uncouth voices and 
loud laughter, and behave themselves as if they were 
trying to turn their expedition to as much account as 
possible in the way of enjoyment. 

John's boat, the regular passenger-boat, is now com' 
ing in, and probably brings the mail. i 

In the afternoon, while some of the new-comers 
were fishing off the rocks, west of the hotel, a shark 
came close in shore. Hearing their outcries, I looked 
out of my chamber window, and saw the dorsal fin and 
the fluke of his tail stuck up out of the water, as he 
moved to and fro. He must have been eight or ten 
feet long. He had probably followed the small fish 
into the bay, and got bewildered, and, at one time, he 
was almost aground. 

Oscar, Mr. Laighton's son, ran down with a gun, 
and fired at the shark, which was then not more than 
ten yards from the shore. He aimed, according to 
his father's directions, just below the junction of the 
dorsal fin with the body ; but the gun was loaded only 
with shot, and seemed to produce no effect. Oscar 
had another shot at him afterwards ; the shark floun- 
dered a little in the water, but finally got off and 
disappeared, probably without very serious damage. 
He came so near the shore that he might have been 
touched with a boat-hook. 

September 9th. — Mr. Thaxter rowed me this morn- 
ing, in his dory, to White Island, on which is the 
light-house. There was scarcely a breath of air, and 
a perfectly calm sea ; an intensely hot sunshine, with 
a little haze, so that the horizon was indistinct. Here 
and there sail-boats sleeping on the water, or moving 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 425 

almost imperceptibly over it. The light-house island 
would be difficult of access in a rough sea, the shore 
being so rocky. On landing, we found the keeper 
peeling his harvest of onions, which he had gathered 
prematurely, because the insects were eating them. 
His little patch of garden seemed to be a strange 
kind of soil, as like marine mud as anything ; but he 
had a fair crop of marrow squashes, though injured, 
as he said, by the last storm ; and there were cab- 
bages and a few turnips. I recollect no other garden 
vegetables. The grass grows pretty luxuriantly, and 
looked very green where there was any soil ; but he 
kept no cow, nor even a pig nor a hen. His house 
stands close by the garden, — a small stone building, 
with peaked roof, and whitewashed. The light-house 
stands on a ledge of rock, with a gulley between, and 
there is a long covered way, triangular in shape, con- 
necting his residence with it. We ascended into the 
lantern, which is eighty-seven feet high. It is a re- 
volving light, with several great illuminators of copper 
silvered, and colored lamp - glasses. Looking down- 
ward, we had the island displayed as on a chart, with 
its little bays, its isthmus of shingly beach connecting 
two parts of the island, and overflowed at high tide ; 
its sunken rocks about it, indicated by the swell, or 
slightly breaking surf. The keeper of the light-house 
was formerly a writing-master. He has a sneaking 
kind of look, and does not bear a very high character 
among his neighbors. Since he kept the light, he has 
lost two wives, — the first a young creature whom he 
used to leave alone upon this desolate rock, and the 
gloom and terror of the situation were probably the 
cause of her death. The second wife, experiencing 
the same kind of treatment, ran away from him, and 



426 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

returned to her friends. He pretends to be religious, 
but drinks. About a year ago he attempted to row 
out alone from Portsmouth. There was a head wind 
and head tide, and he would have inevitably drifted 
out to sea, if Mr. Thaxter had not saved him. 

While we were standing in his garden - patch, I 
heard a woman's voice inside the dwelling, but know 
not whose it was. A light-house nine miles from shore 
would be a delightful place for a new-married couple 
to spend their honeymoon, or their whole first year. 

On our way back we landed at another island called 
Londoner's Rock, or some such name. It has but lit- 
tle soil. As we approached it, a large bird flew away. 
Mr. Thaxter took it to be a gannet ; and, while walk- 
ing over the island, an owl started up from among the 
rocks near us, and flew away, apparently uncertain of 
its course. It was a brown owl, but Mr. Thaxter says 
that there are beautiful white owls, which spend the 
winter here, and feed upon rats. These are very 
abundant, and live amidst the rocks, — probably hav- 
ing been brought hither by vessels. 

The water to-day was not so transparent as some- 
times, but had a slight haze diffused through it, some- 
what like that of the atmosphere. 

The passengers brought by the Spy, yesterday, still 
remain with us. They consist of country traders, a 
country doctor, and such sorts of people, rude, shrewd, 
and simple, and well-behaved enough; wondering at 
sharks, and equally at lobsters ; sitting down to table 
with their coats off; helping themselves out of the 
dish with their own forks; taking pudding on the 
plates off which they have eaten meat. People at just 
this stage of manners are more disagreeable than at 
any other stage. They are aware of some decencies, 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 427 

but not so deeply aware as to make them a matter of 
conscience. They may be heard talking of the finan 
cial affairs of the expedition, reckoning what money 
each has paid. One offers to pay another three or 
four cents, which the latter has overpaid. " It 's of 
no consequence, sir," says his friend, with a tone of 
conscious liberality, "that's near enough." This is a 
most tremendously hot day. 

There is a young lady staying at the hotel, afflicted 
with what her friends call erysipelas, but which is 
probably scrofula. She seems unable to walk, or sit 
up ; but every pleasant day, about the middle of the 
forenoon, she is dragged out beneath the veranda, on 
a sofa. To-day she has been there until late in the 
decline of the afternoon. It is a delightful place, 
where the breezes stir, if any are in motion. The 
young girls, her sisters or cousins, and Mr. Thaxter's 
sister, sat round her, babbling cheerfully, and sing- 
ing ; and they were so merry that it did not seem as 
if there could be an incurably sick one in the midst of 
them. 

The Spy came to-day, with more passengers of no 
particular character. She still remains off the land- 
ing, moored, with her sails in the wind. 

The mail arrived to-day, but nothing for me. 

Close by the veranda, at the end of the hotel, is 
drawn up a large boat, of ten or twelve tons, which 
got injured in some gale, and probably will remain 
there for years to decay, and be a picturesque and 
characteristic object. 

The Spy has been lying in the broad track of 
golden light, thrown by the sun, far down towards the 
horizon, over the rippling water, her sails throwing 
distinct, dark shadows over the brightness. She has 



428 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

now got under way, and set sail on a northwest course 
for Portsmouth; carrying off, I believe, all the pas- 
sengers she brought to-day. 

September 10th. — Here is another beautiful morn- 
ing, with the sun dimpling in the early sunshine. Four 
sail-boats are in sight, motionless on the sea, with the 
whiteness of their sails reflected in it. The heat-haze 
sleeps along the shore, though not so as quite to hide 
it, and there is the promise of another very warm 
day. As yet, however, the air is cool and refreshing. 
Around the island, there is the little ruffle of a breeze ; 
but where the sail-boats are, a mile or more off, the 
sea is perfectly calm. The crickets sing, and I hear 
the chirping of birds besides. 

At the base of the light-house yesterday, we saw the 
wings and feathers of a decayed little bird, and Mr. 
Thaxter said they often flew against the lantern with 
such force as to kill themselves, and that large quan- 
tities of them might be picked up. How came these 
little birds out of their nests at night ? Why should 
they meet destruction from the radiance that proves 
the salvation of other beings ? 

Mr. Thaxter had once a man living with him who 
had seen " Old Bab," the ghost. He met him between 
the hotel and the sea, and describes him as dressed in 
a sort of frock, and with a very dreadful countenance. 

Two or three years ago, the crew of a wrecked ves- 
sel, a brigantine, wrecked near Boon Island, landed on 
Hog Island of a winter night, and found shelter in the 
hotel. It was from the eastward. There were six or 
seven men, with the mate and captain. It was mid- 
night when they got ashore. The common sailors, as 
soon as they were physically comfortable, seemed to be 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 429 

perfectly at ease. The captain walked the floor, be- 
moaning himself for a silver watch which he had lost ; 
the mate, being the only married man, talked about 
his Eunice. They all told their dreams of the pre- 
ceding night, and saw in them prognostics of the mis- 
fortune. 

There is now a breeze, the blue ruffle of which 
seems to reach almost across to the mainland, yet with 
streaks of calm ; and, in one place, the glassy surface 
of a lake of calmness, amidst the surrounding com- 
motion. 

The wind, in the early morning, was from the west, 
and the aspect of the sky seemed to promise a warm 
and sunny day. But all at once, soon after breakfast, 
the wind shifted round to the eastward ; and great vol- 
umes of fog, almost as dense as cannon -smoke, came 
sweeping from the eastern ocean, through the valley, 
and past the house. It soon covered the whole sea, 
and the whole island, beyond a verge of a few hundred 
yards. The chilliness was not so great as accompa- 
nies a change of wind on the mainland. We had been 
watching a large ship that was slowly making her way 
between us and the land towards Portsmouth. This 
was now hidden. The breeze is still very moderate ; 
but the boat, moored near the shore, rides with a con- 
siderable motion, as if the sea were getting up. 

Mr. Laighton says that the artist who adorned Trin- 
ity Church, in New York, with sculpture wanted some 
real wings from which to imitate the wings of cher- 
ubim. Mr. Thaxter carried him the wings of the 
white owl that winters here at the Shoals, together 
with those of some other bird ; and the artist gave his 
cherubim the wings of an owl. 

This morning there have been two boat-loads of vis* 



430 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

itors from Rye. They merely made a flying call, and 
took to their boats again, — a disagreeable and imper- 
tinent kind of people. 

The Spy arrived before dinner, with several passen- 
gers. After dinner, came the Fanny, bringing, among 
other freight, a large basket of delicious pears to me, 
together with a note from Mr. B. B. Titcomb. He is 
certainly a man of excellent taste and admirable be- 
havior. I sent a plateful of pears to the room of each 
guest now in the hotel, kept a dozen for myself, and 
gave the balance to Mr. Laighton. 

The two Portsmouth young ladies returned in the 
Spy. I had grown accustomed to their presence, and 
rather liked them ; one of them being gay and rather 
noisy, and the other quiet and gentle. As to new- 
comers, I feel rather a distaste to them ; and so, I 
find, does Mr. Laighton, — a rather singular sentiment 
for a hotel-keeper to entertain towards his guests. 
However, he treats them very hospitably when once 
within his doors. 

The sky is overcast, and, about the time the Spy 
and the Fanny sailed, there were a few drops of rain. 
The wind, at that time, was strong enough to raise 
white -caps to the eastward of the island, and there 
was good hope of a storm. Now, however, the wind 
has subsided, and the weather-seers know not what to 
forebode. 

September 11th. — The wind shifted and veered 
about, towards the close of yesterday, and later it was 
almost calm, after blowing gently from the northwest, 
— notwithstanding which it rained. There being a 
mistiness in the air, we could see the gleam of the 
light-house upon the mist above it, although the light- 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 431 

house itself was hidden by the highest point of this 
island, or by our being in a valley. As we sat under 
the piazza in the evening, we saw the light from on 
board some vessel move slowly through the distant ob- 
scurity, — so slowly that we were only sensible of its 
progress by forgetting it and looking again,, The 
plash and murmur of the waves around the island 
were soothingly audible. It was not unpleasantly 
cold, and Mr. Laighton, Mr. Thaxter, and myself sat 
under the piazza till long after dark ; the former at a 
little distance, occasionally smoking his pipe, and Mr. 
Thaxter and I talking about poets and the stage. The 
latter is an odd subject to be discussed in this stern 
and wild scene, which has precisely the same charac- 
teristics now as two hundred years ago. The mosqui- 
toes were very abundant last night, and they are cer- 
tainly a hardier race than their inland brethren. 

This morning there is a sullen sky, with scarcely 
any breeze. The clouds throw shadows of varied dark- 
ness upon the sea. I know not which way the wind 
is ; but the aspect of things seems to portend a calm 
drizzle as much as anything else. 

About eleven o'clock, Mr. Thaxter took me over to 
Smutty Nose in his dory. A sloop from the eastward, 
laden with laths, bark, and other lumber, and a few 
barrels of mackerel, filled yesterday, and was left by 
her skipper and crew. All the morning we have seen 
boats picking up her deck-load, which was scattered 
over the sea, and along the shores of the islands. The 
skipper and his three men got into Smutty Nose in 
the boat; and the sloop was afterwards boarded by 
the Smutty Noses and brought into that island. We 
saw her lying at the pier, — a black, ugly, rotten old 
thing, with the water half-way over her decks. The 



432 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

wonder was, how she swam so long. The skipper, a 
man of about thirty-five or forty, in a blue pilot-cloth 
overcoat, and a rusty, high-crowned hat jammed down 
over his brow, looked very forlorn ; while the isl- 
anders were grouped about, indolently enjoying the 
matter. 

I walked with Mr. Thaxter over the island, and saw 
first the graves of the Spaniards. • They were wrecked 
on this island a hundred years ago, and lie buried in a 
range about thirty feet in length, to the number of six- 
teen, with rough, moss-grown pieces of granite on each 
side of this common grave. Near this spot, yet some- 
what removed, so as not to be confounded with it, are 
other individual graves, chiefly of the Haley family, 
who were once possessors of the island. These have 
slate gravestones. There is also, within a small en- 
closure of rough pine boards, a white marble grave- 
stone, in memory of a young man named Bekker, son 
of the person who now keeps the hotel on Smutty 
Nose. He was buried, Mr. Thaxter says, notwith- 
standing his marble monument, in a rude pine box, 
which he himself helped to make 

We walked to the farthest point of the island, and 
I have never seen a more dismal place than it was on 
this sunless and east - windy day, being the farthest 
point out into the melancholy sea which was in no 
very agreeable mood, and roared sullenly against the 
wilderness of rocks. One mass of rock, more than 
twelve feet square, was thrown up out of the sea in a 
storm, not many years since, and now lies athwart- 
wise, never to be moved unless another omnipotent 
wave shall give it another toss. On shore, such a 
rock would be a landmark for centuries. It is incon- 
ceivable how a sufficient mass of water could be 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 433 

brought to bear on this ponderous mass ; but, not im- 
probably, all the fragments piled upon one another 
round these islands have thus been flung to and fro at 
one time or another. 

There is considerable land that would serve tolera- 
bly for pasture on Smutty Nose, and here and there 
a little enclosure of richer grass, built round with a 
strong stone-wall. The same kind of enclosure is prev- 
alent on Star Island, — each small proprietor fenc- 
ing off his little bit of tillage or grass. Wild-flowers 
are abundant and various on these islands ; the bay- 
berry-bush is plentiful on Smutty Nose, and makes 
the hand that crushes it fragrant. 

The hotel is kept by a Prussian, an old soldier, who 
fought at the Battle of Waterloo. We saw him in 
the barn, — a gray, heavy, round-skulled old fellow, 
troubled with deafness. The skipper of the wrecked 
sloop had, apparently, just been taking a drop of com- 
fort, but still seemed downcast. He took passage in 
a fishing- vessel, the Wave, of Kittery, for Portsmouth ; 
and I know not why, but there was something that 
made me smile in his grim and gloomy look, his rusty, 
jammed hat, his rough and grisly beard, and in his 
mode of chewing tobacco, with much action of the 
jaws, getting out the juice as largely as possible, as 
men always do when disturbed in mind. I looked at 
him earnestly, and was conscious of something that 
marked him out from among the careless islanders 
around him. Being as much discomposed as it was 
possible for him to be, his feelings individualized the 
man and magnetized the observer. When he got 
aboard the fishing - vessel, he seemed not entirely at 
his ease, being accustomed to command and work 
amongst his own little crew, and now having nothing 

vol. IX. 28 



434 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

to do. Nevertheless, unconsciously perhaps, lie lent 
a hand to whatever was going on, and yet had a kind 
of strangeness about him. As the Wave set sail, we 
were just starting in our dory, and a young fellow, an 
acquaintance of Mr. Thaxter, proposed to take us in 
tow ; so we were dragged along at her stern very rap- 
idly, and with a whitening wake, until we came off 
Hog Island. Then the dory was cast loose, and Mr. 
Thaxter rowed ashore against a head sea. 

The day is still overcast, and the wind is from the 
eastward ; but it does not increase, and the sun ap- 
pears occasionally on the point of shining out. A 
boat — the Fanny, I suppose, from Portsmouth — 
has just come to her moorings in front of the hotel. 
A sail-boat has put off from her, with a passenger in 
the stern. Pray God she bring me a letter with good 
news from home ; for I begin to feel as if I had been 
long enough away. 

There is a bowling-alley on Smutty Nose, at which 
some of the Star - Islanders were playing, when we 
were there. I saw only two dwelling-houses besides 
the hotel. Connected with Smutty Nose, by a stone- 
wall there is another little bit of island, called Malaga. 
Both are the property of Mr. Laighton. 

Mr. Laighton says that the Spanish wreck occurred 
forty-seven years ago, instead of a hundred. Some of 
the dead bodies were found on Malaga, others on va- 
rious parts of the next island. One or two had crept 
to a stone-wall that traverses Smutty Nose, but were 
unable to get over it. One was found among the 
bushes the next summer. Mr. Haley had been buried 
at his own expense. 

The skipper of the wrecked sloop, yesterday, was 
unwilling to go to Portsmouth until he was shaved, 



1852.J AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 435 

— his beard being of several days' growth. It seems 
to be the impulse of people under misfortune to put 
on their best clothes, and attend to the decencies of 
life. 

The Fanny brought a passenger, — a thin, stiff, 
black-haired young man, who enters his name as Mr. 
Tufts, from Charlestown. He, and a country trader, 
his wife, sister, and two children (all of whom have 
been here several days), are now the only guests be- 
sides myself. 

September 12th. — The night set in sullen and 
gloomy, and morning has dawned in pretty much the 
same way. The wind, however, seems rising somewhat, 
and grumbles past the angle of the house. Perhaps 
we shall see a storm yet from the eastward ; and, hav- 
ing the whole sweep of the broad Atlantic between 
here and Ireland, I do not see why it should not be 
fully equal to a storm at sea. 

It has been raining more or less all the forenoon, 
and now, at twelve o'clock, blows, as Mr. Laighton 
says, " half a gale " from the southeast. Through the 
opening of our shallow valley, towards the east, there 
is the prospect of a tumbling sea, with hundreds of 
white-caps chasing one another over it. In front of 
the hotel, being to leeward, the water near the shore 
is but slightly ruffled ; but farther the sea is agitated, 
and the surf breaks over Square Rock. All around 
the horizon, landward as well as seaward, the view is 
shut in by a mist. Sometimes I have a dim sense of 
the continent beyond, but no more distinct than the 
thought of the other world to the unenlightened soul. 
The sheep bleat in their desolate pasture. The wind 
shakes the house. A loon, seeking, I suppose, some 



436 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

quieter resting-place than on the troubled waves, was 
seen swimming just now in the cove not more than a 
hundred yards from the hotel. Judging by the pother 
which this " half a gale " makes with the sea, it must 
have been a terrific time, indeed, when that great wave 
rushed and roared across the islands. 

Since dinner, I have been to the eastern shore to 
look at the sea. It is a wild spectacle, but still, I sup- 
pose, lacks an infinite deal of being a storm. Outside 
of this island there is a long and low one (or two in a 
line), looking more like a reef of rocks than an island, 
and at the distance of a mile or more. There the surf 
and spray break gallantly, — white-sheeted forms ris- 
ing up all at once, and hovering a moment in the air. 
Spots which, in calm times, are not discernible from 
the rest of the ocean, now are converted into white, 
foamy breakers. The swell of the waves against our 
shore makes a snowy depth, tinged with green, for 
many feet back from the shore. The longer waves 
swell, overtop, and rush upon the rocks ; and, when 
they return, the waters pour back in a cascade. 
Against the outer points of Smutty Nose and Star Isl- 
and, there is a higher surf than here ; because, the 
wind being from the southeast, these islands receive 
it first, and form a partial barrier in respect to this. 
While I looked, there was moisture in the air, and 
occasional spats of rain. The uneven places in the 
rocks were full of the fallen rain. 

It is quite impossible to give an idea of these rocky 
shores, — how confusedly they are tossed together, ly- 
ing in all directions ; what solid ledges, what great 
fragments thrown out from the rest. Often the rocks 
are broken, square and angular, so as to form a kind 
of staircase ; though, for the most part, such as would 
require a giant stride to ascend them. 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 437 

Sometimes a black trap-rock runs through the bed 
of granite ; sometimes the sea has eaten this away, 
leaving a long, irregular fissure. In some places, ow- 
ing to the same cause perhaps, there is a great hollow 
place excavated into the ledge, and forming a harbor, 
into which the sea flows ; and, while there is foam and 
fury at the entrance, it is comparatively calm within. 
Some parts of the crag are as much as fifty feet of 
perpendicular height, down which you look over a 
bare and smooth descent, at the base of which is a 
shaggy margin of sea-weed. But it is vain to try to 
express this confusion. As much as anything else, it 
seems as if some of the massive materials of the world 
remained superfluous, after the Creator had finished, 
and were carelessly thrown down here, where the mill- 
ionth part of them emerge from the sea, and in the 
course of thousands of years have become partially be- 
strewn with a little soil. 

The wind has changed to southwest, and blows 
pretty freshly. The sun shone before it set ; and the 
mist, which all day has overhung the land, now takes 
the aspect of a cloud, — drawing a thin veil between 
us and the shore, and rising above it. In our own at- 
mosphere there is no fog nor mist. 

September V&th. — I spent last evening, as well as 
part of the evening before, at Mr. Thaxter's. It is 
certainly a romantic incident to find such a young 
man on this lonely island ; his marriage with the 
pretty Miranda is true romance. In our talk we have 
glanced over many matters, and, among the rest, that 
of the stage, to prepare himself for which was his first 
motive in coming hither. He appears quite to have 
given up any dreams of that kind now. What he will 



438 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

do on returning to the world, as his purpose is, I can* 
not imagine ; but, no doubt, through all their remain* 
ing life, both he and she will look back to this rocky 
ledge, with its handful of soil, as to a Paradise. 

■ Last evening we (Mr., Mrs., and Miss Thaxter) sat 
and talked of ghosts and kindred subjects ; and they 
told me of the appearance of a little old woman in 
a striped gown, that had come into that house a few 
months ago. She was seen by nobody but an Irish 
nurse, who spoke to her, but received no answer. The 
little woman drew her chair up towards the fire, and 
stretched out her feet to warm them. By and by the 
nurse, who suspected nothing of her ghostly character, 
went to get a pail of water ; and, when she came back, 
the little woman was not there. It being known pre- 
cisely how many and what people were on the island, 
and that no such little woman was among them, the 
fact of her being a ghost is incontestable. I taught 
them how to discover the hidden sentiments of letters 
by suspending a gold ring over them. Ordinarily, 
since I have been here, we have spent the evening 
under the piazza, where Mr. Laighton sits to take the 
air. He seems to avoid the within-doors whenever he 
can. So there he sits in the sea-breezes, when inland 
people are probably drawing their chairs to the fire- 
side ; and there I sit with him, — not keeping up a 
continual flow of talk, but each speaking as any wis- 
dom happens to come into his mind. 

The wind, this morning, is from the northwestward, 
rather brisk, but not very strong. There is a scatter- 
ing of clouds about the sky ; but the atmosphere is 
singularly clear, and we can see several hills of the in- 
terior, the cloud -like White Mountains, and, along 
the shore, the long white beaches and the dotted 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 439 

dwellings, with great distinctness. Many small ves- 
sels spread their wings, and go seaward. 

I have been rambling over the southern part of the 
island, and looking at the traces of habitations there. 
There are several enclosures, — the largest, perhaps, 
thirty yards square, — surrounded with a rough stone- 
wall of very mossy antiquity, built originally broad 
and strong, two or three large stones in width, and 
piled up breast-high or more, and taking advantage of 
the extending ledge to make it higher. Within this 
enclosure there is almost a clear space of soil, which 
was formerly, no doubt, cultivated as a garden, but is 
now close cropt by the sheep and cattle, except where 
it produces thistles, or the poisonous weed called mer- 
cury, which seems to love these old walls, and to root 
itself in or near them. These walls are truly venerable, 
gray, and mossy ; and you see at once that the hands 
that piled the stones must have been long ago turned 
to dust. Close by the enclosure is the hollow of an 
old cellar, with rocks tumbled into it, but the layers 
of stone at the side still to be traced, and bricks, 
broken or with rounded edges, scattered about, and 
perhaps pieces of lime ; and weeds and grass growing 
about the whole. Several such sites of former human 
homes may be seen there, none of which can possibly 
be later than the Revolution, and probably they are 
as old as the settlement of the island. The site has 
Smutty Nose and Star opposite, with a road (that is, 
a water-road) between, varying from half a mile to a 
mile. Duck Island is also seen on the left ; and, on 
the right, the shore of the mainland. Behind, the 
rising ground intercepts the view. Smith's monument 
is visible. I do not see where the inhabitants could 
have kept their boats, unless in the chasms worn by 
the sea into the rocks. 



440 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

One of these chasms has a spring of fresh water in 
the gravelly base, down to which the sea has worn out. 
The chasm has perpendicular, though irregular, sides, 
which the waves have chiselled out very square. Its 
width varies from ten to twenty feet, widest towards 
the sea ; and on the shelves, up and down the sides, 
some soil has been here and there accumulated, on 
which grow grass and wild-flowers, — such as golden- 
rod, now in bloom, and raspberry-bushes, the fruit of 
which I found ripe, — the whole making large parts 
of the sides of the chasm green, its verdure overhang- 
ing the strip of sea that dashes and foams into the 
hollow. Sea -weed, besides what grows upon and 
shags the submerged rocks, is tossed into the harbor, 
together with stray pieces of wood, chips, barrel-staves, 
or (as to-day) an entire barrel, or whatever else the 
sea happens to have on hand. The water rakes to 
and fro over the pebbles at the bottom of the chasm, 
drawing back, and leaving much of it bare, then rush- 
ing up, with more or less of foam and fury, according 
to the force and direction of the wind ; though, owing 
to the protection of the adjacent islands, it can never 
have a gale blowing right into its mouth. The spring 
is situated so far down the chasm, that, at half or two 
thirds tide, it is covered by the sea. Twenty minutes 
after the retiring of the tide suffices to restore to it its 
wonted freshness. 

In another chasm, very much like the one here de- 
scribed, I saw a niche in the rock, about tall enough 
for a person of moderate stature to stand upright. It 
had a triangular floor and a top, and was just the place 
to hold the rudest statue that ever a savage made. 

Many of the ledges on the island have yellow moss 
or lichens spread on them in large patches. The moss 
of those stone walls does really look very old. 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 441 

" Old Bab," the ghost, lias a ring round his neck, 
and is supposed either to have been hung or to have 
had his throat cut, but he steadfastly declines telling 
the mode of his death. There is a luminous appear- 
ance about him as he walks, and his face is pale and 
very dreadful. 

The Fanny arrived this forenoon, and sailed again 
before dinner. She brought, as passenger, a Mr. 
Balch, brother to the country trader who has been 
spending a few days here. On her return, she has 
swept the islands of all the non-residents except my- 
self. The wind being ahead, and pretty strong, she 
will have to beat up, and the voyage will be anything 
but agreeable. The spray flew before her bows, and 
doubtless gave the passengers all a thorough wetting 
within the first half-hour. 

The view of Star Island or Gosport from the north 
is picturesque, — the village, or group of houses, being 
gathered pretty closely together in the centre of the 
island, with some green about them ; and above all 
the other edifices, wholly displayed, stands the little 
stone church, with its tower and belfry. On the right 
is White Island, with the light-house ; to the right of 
that, and a little to the northward, Londoner's Rock, 
where, perhaps, of old, some London ship was wrecked. 
To the left of Star Island, and nearer Hog, or Apple- 
dore, is Smutty Nose. Pour the blue sea about these 
islets, and let the surf whiten and steal up from their 
points, and from the reefs about them (which latter 
whiten for an instant, and then are lost in the whelm- 
ing and eddying depths), the northwest- wind the while 
raising thousands of white-caps, and the evening sun 
shining solemnly over the expanse, — and it is a stern 
and lovely scene. 



442 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1852. 

The valleys that intersect, or partially intersect, the 
island are a remarkable feature. They appear to be 
of the same formation as the fissures in the rocks, but, 
as they extend farther from the sea, they accumulate 
a little soil along the irregular sides, and so become 
green and shagged with bushes, though with the rock 
everywhere thrusting itself through. The old people 
of the isles say that their fathers could remember when 
the sea, at high tide, flowed quite through the valley 
in which the hotel stands, and that boats used to pass. 
Afterwards it was a standing pond ; then a morass, 
with cat-tail flags growing in it. It has filled up, so 
far as it is filled, by the soil being washed down from 
the higher ground on each side. The storms, mean- 
while, have tossed up the shingle and paving-stones 
at each end of the valley, so as to form a barrier 
against the passage of any but such mighty waves as 
that which thundered through a year or two ago. 

The old inhabitants lived in the centre or towards 
the south of the island, and avoided the north and east 
because the latter were so much bleaker in winter. 
They could moor their boats in the road, between 
Smutty Nose and Hog, but could not draw them up. 
Mr. Laighton found traces of old dwellings in the 
vicinity of the hotel, and it is supposed that the prin- 
cipal part of the population was on this island. I 
spent the evening at Mr. Thaxter's, and we drank a 
glass of his 1820 Scheidam. The northwest-wind was 
high at ten o'clock, when I came home, the tide full, 
and the murmur of the waves broad and deep. 

September 14:tJi. — Another of the brightest of 
sunny mornings. The wind is not nearly so high as 
last night, but it is apparently still from the north 



1852.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 443 

west, and serves to make the sea look very blue and 
cold. The atmosphere is so transparent that objects 
seem perfectly distinct along the mainland. To-day 
I must be in Portsmouth ; to - morrow, at home. A 
brisk west or northwest-wind, making the sea so blue, 
gives a very distinct outline in its junction with the 
sky. 

September 16th. — On Tuesday, the 14th, there was 
no opportunity to get to the mainland. Yesterday 
morning opened with a southeast rain, which continued 
all day. The Fanny arrived in the forenoon, with 
some coal for Mr. Laighton, and sailed again before 
dinner, taking two of the maids of the house ; but as 
it rained pouring, and as I could not, at any rate, have 
got home to-night, there would have been no sense in 
my going. It began to clear up in the decline of the 
day; the sun shot forth some golden arrows a little 
before his setting; and the sky was perfectly clear 
when I went to bed, after spending the evening at 
Mr. Thaxter's. This morning is clear and bright; 
but the wind is northwest, making the sea look blue 
and cold, with little breaks of white foam. It is un- 
favorable for a trip to the mainland ; but doubtless 
t shall find an opportunity of getting ashore before 
night. 

The highest part of Appledore is about eighty feet 
above the sea. Mr. Laighton has seen whales off the 
island, — both on the eastern side and between it and 
the mainland; once a great crowd of them, as many 
as fifty. They were drawn in by pursuing their food, 
— a small fish called herring-bait, which came ashore 
in such abundance that Mr. Laighton dipped up bas- 
ketfuls of them. No attempt was made to take the 
whales. 



444 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. [1853. 

There are vague traditions of trees on these islands. 
One of them, Cedar Island, is said to have been named 
from the trees that grew on it. The matter appears 
improbable, though, Mr. Thaxter says, large quanti- 
ties of soil are annually washed into the sea ; so that 
the islands may have been better clad with earth and 
its productions than now. 

Mrs. Thaxter tells me that there are several burial* 
places on this island ; but nobody has been buried 
here since the Revolution. Her own marriage was 
the first one since that epoch, and her little Karl, now 
three months old, the first-born child in all those 
eighty years. 

[ Then follow Extracts from the Church Records of 
Gosport.~] 

This book of the church records of Gosport is a 
small folio, well bound in dark calf, and about an inch 
thick ; the paper very stout, with a water-mark of an 
armed man in a sitting posture, holding a spear . . . 
over a lion, who brandishes a sword; on alternate 
pages the Crown, and beneath it the letters G. R. 
The motto of the former device Pro Patria. The 
book is written in a very legible hand, probably by 
the Rev. Mr. Tucke. The ink is not much faded. 

Concord, March 9, 1853. — Finished, this day, the 
last story of " Tanglewood Tales." They were written 
in the following order : — 

" The Pomegranate Seeds." 

" The Minotaur." 

" The Golden Fleece." 

"The Dragon's Teeth." 

"Circe's Palace." 

"The Pygmies." 



1853.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 445 

The Introduction is yet to be written. Wrote it 
13th March. I went to Washington (my first visit) 
on 14th April. 

Caresses, expressions of one sort or another, are 
necessary to the life of the affections, as leaves are 
to the life of a tree. If they are wholly restrained, 
love will die at the roots. 

June 9th. — Cleaning the attic to-day, here at the 
Wayside, the woman found an immense snake, flat and 
outrageously fierce, thrusting out its tongue. Ellen, 
the cook, killed it. She called it an adder, but it ap- 
pears to have been a striped snake. It seems a fiend, 
haunting the house. On further inquiry, the snake is 
described as plaided with brown and black. 

Cupid in these latter times has probably laid aside 
his bow and arrows, and uses fire-arms, — a pistol, — 
perhaps a revolver. 

I burned great heaps of old letters, and other pa- 
pers, a little while ago, preparatory to going to Eng- 
land. Among them were hundreds of 's letters. 

The world has no more such, and now they are all 
dust and ashes. What a trustful guardian of secret 
matters is fire ! What should we do without fire and 
death? 



INDEX. 



A , Lieutenant, 108. 

Aaron's rod, 44. 

Abby, Miss, 366. 

Abyssinians, 39. 

Acadians, the, 238. 

Acadie, 208. 

Action, 125. 

Adam and Eve, a new, 33, 39, 228, 284, 
285, 300, 309, 315, 354. 

Adams, North, 134, 135, 137, 149, 203. 

Advice, 275. 

Africa, Julia, 201. 

Afternoon, 14, 96. 

Age, 294, 347. 

Agriculture, 228. See Gardens, Mow- 
ing, and Work. 

Alchemy, 206. 

Alcott, Amos B., 332, 339. 

Alexander, 209. 

Allen, Rev. Thomas, 132. 

Allen, William, 231, 247, 250, 259. 

Almshouse, an, 41. 

Ambition, 42. 

American architecture, 39. 

American Stationers' Company, 89. 

Amputation, 137. 

Anemone, an, 233. 

Anglais, L', 94. 

Angling, 50, 59, 64, 119, 122, 281, 286, 
288, 303, 309, 325, 350, 397, 404 ; at 
the Isles of Shoals, 417. 

Animals, 397. See Bats, Bears, Cats, 
Cows, Dogs, Elephants, Foxes, Frogs, 
Horses, a Hyena, a Lion, a Monkey, 
Pigs, Salamanders, Saurians, Sheep, 
Snakes, a Squirrel, Turtles, Whales, 
Wolves. 

Antwerp, 40. 

Apollo Belvedere, 407. 

Appledore, 411, 413, 423, 441, 443. 

Apples, 95, 100, 295, 309, 326, 408. 

Apple-toddy, 415. 

Appleton, Miss, 63. 

Ararat, 210. 

Architecture, 30, 55, 57, 209. 

Aristocracy, American, 81 ; old, 88. 

Ark, the, 210. 

Artillery-man, a French, 40. 

Artists' room, an, 373. 

Arts, 273. 

Ashfield, 126. 

Asphyxia Davis, 279. 



Athenaeum, 221, 333, 341, 343, 370, 374. 

Atkinson, General, 279. 

Aube"pine, Monsieur de L', 59. 

Audiences, 382. 

Augusta, 56, 64, 67. 

Augustine, St., 20. 

Augustus, Emperor, 35. 

Auld Lang Syne, 72. 

Author, an, 89. 

Autumn, 25, 29, 31, 95, 97, 98, 101, 102, 
255, 256, 260, 263, 264, 267, 269, 270, 
307, 326, 327, 328, 357, 358, 393, 394. 

Avery, E. K., 123. 

B , 45, 56, 79. 

B , Ben, 364. 

B , Colonel, 68. 

B , G., 311. 

B , Miss C, 364. 

B , Mrs., 227, 366. 

Bacon, Lord, 93. 

Bainbridge, Commodore, 92. 

Baker's Island, 120, 121. 

Baker's Tavern, 72. 

Balch, Mr., 441. 

Bald Mountain, 405. 

Ball, a fancy, 34. 

Bancroft, Mr., 225. 

Baptist preacher, a, 144. 

Bar-rooms, 375, 377, 388. 

Bathing, 15, 52, 69, 145, 175, 286, 28? 

304, 359. 
Bats, 161. 
Beach birds, 103. 
Bears, 193, 195. 
Beauty, 347. 
Beds, ancient, 31. 
Bees, 275, 299. 
Bekker, Mr., 432. 
Bellows-pipe, the, 197. 
Bells tolling, 190. 
Benevolence, 72. 
Benton, Jesse, 44. 
Benton's mint-drops, 18. 
Berger, M. Le, 59. 
Berkshire, 201. 
Berkshire Hotel, 130. 
Betty Moody's Hole, 418. 
Beverly, 98. 
Beverly, Upper, 15. 
Bible, a Hebrew, 203. 
Birch, Mr., 178. 



448 



INDEX. 



Birds, owls, 17, 426 ; eagles, 31 ; chim- 
ney swallows, 78 ; imprisoned, 79 ; 
beach, 103 ; the Phoenix, 210 ; spar- 
rows, 211 ; crows, 137, 264, 306, 346 ; 
hens, 299, 390 ; in storms, 315 ; 327, 
346 ; gulls, 346 ; dreaming, 350 ; a ca- 
nary, 374 ; killed, 428 ; a loon, 435. 

Bishop of Worcester, Prideaux, 26. 

Black Hawk, 149. 

Blacksmith, a, 141. 

Blind man, a, 38 ; and his guides, 87 ; 
202. 

Bliss, Daniel, 396. 

Blithedale Romance, The, 409. 

Blockhead and scold, 26. 

Blood, ice in the, 210. 

Bloody footprint, 395. 

Blue Hill, 267. 

Boats, 60, 63, 120, 320, 322, 343 ; voyage 
of a child, 403 ; 427, 434. 

Bodies undecayed, 41. 

Boon Island, 428. 

Bore, a, 261. 

Boston, 16, 370, 377. 

Boston, East, 16. 

Boundary Question, 57, 68. 

Boxer, the, 92. 

Bradford, George, 235, 251. 

Bradford, Governor, 88. 

Bradford, Mr., 368. 

Brazer, Mr. (minister), 25. 

Breach of promise, 41. 

Bremer, Daniel, 396. 

Bremer, Miss, 392. 

Bride and groom, 132, 208. 

Bridge (purser), 113, 114, 115. 

Briggs(M. C), 131. 

Brighton, 247, 248, 266. 

Brighton Fair, 248. 

Brobdingnag, 275. 

Brook Farm, 226, 237, 240, 243, 334. 

Brookhouse's Villa, 102. 

Brooks, 50, 69, 105, 134, 146, 156, 165, 
175, 255, 394, 400, 403. 

Brotherhood of the unlike, 27. 

Brown College, 163. 

Browne, Sir T., 209. 

Browne's Folly, 100. 

Browne's Hill, 98. 

Bruises, 339, 342. 

Brunette, a, 83. 

Brute, man a, 33. 

Bryant, William Cullen, 373. 

Buckingham, Duke of, 206. 

Buff and Blue, 41. 

Bullfrog, Mrs., 239. 

Bunker Hill Monument, 215. 

Burial in a cloud, 209. 

Burial-grounds, 19, 81 ; Charles Street, 
118 ; Pittsfield, 131 ; 176, 186, 201, 202, 
269, 397 ; at Gosport, 418 ; at Smutty 
Nose Island, 432 ; on the Isles of 
Shoals, 444. 

Burning of maskers, 124. 

Butchers, 282. 

Butterflies, 224. 

Butternuts, 157. 



C , 363. 

C , H. L., 208. 

Calamities, 36. 

Cambridge Divinity School, 163. 

Canaan, 202. 

Canadians, 53, 57. 

Canary, a, 374. 

Candide, 333. 

Cannon, smoke of, 21, 24, 40. 

Cannon-shot, effect of, 93. 

Canova, 339. 

Caravans, 167, 191, 192. 

Caresses, 445. 

Carlyle on Heroes, 233. 

Casts, 402. 

Caswell, Joe, 418, 419. 

Catastrophes, 21 ; unforeseen, 28. 

Cats, 386. 

Cave, a, 197. 

Cedar Island, 444. 

Celestial Railroad, The, 361. 

Cellini, Benvenuto, 395. 

Century, the, personified, 396. 

Cervantes, Tales, of, 372. 

Chain and padlock. 26. 

Chaise, runaway, 79. 

Chances, The, 206. 

Chandler, J. A., 72. 

Change, in character, 21 ; in love, 22; 
in age, 24 ; of face, 209. 

Channing, Bllery, 334, 343, 346, 367, 408. 

Chapel, King's, 20. 

Character, change in, 21 ; altered b$ 
condition, 98. 

Characters, Nancy, 74 ; Mrs. H , 74 ; 

112 ; a wine-merchant, 115 ; a pedlar, 
115 ; a pedlar, 126 : a lawyer, 137, 
141, 143, 149 ; a blacksmith, 141 ; a 
Vermont man, 142 ; a dentist, 143, 
152 ; a Baptist preacher, 144 ; Joe, 
144 ; a fat woman, 152 ; a sensible 
man, 153 ; 153 ; a doctor, 153 ; a wid- 
ower, 154 ; a pedlar, 157, 158, 187 ; a 
wrestler, 160 ; an invalid 162 ; 162 ; a 
young clergyman, 163, 164 ; students, 
163, 164 ; a giant, 164 ; an Englishman, 
166 ; proprietor of a caravan, 167, 168 ; 
171 ; a Methodist, 169 ; 171 ; an Indian, 
171 ; a commissioner, 174 ; a squire, 
174 ; a tramp, 178 ; a Dutchman, 179 ; 
a newspaper agent, 186 ; an old man 
astray, 187 ; a horse-jockey, 188 ; 189 ; 
a woodchopper, 190 ; Uncle John, 
190 ; a snake-tamer, 192 ; a coxcomb, 
195 ; an engineer, 195 ; a tavern-keep= 
er, 200 ; a blind man, 202 ; an opium- 
eater, 203 ; a deaf man, 203 ; a negro 
traveller, 203 ; an intriguer, 205 ; a 
false man, 205 ; a little sailor, 220 : 
Mr. Dismal View, 230, 231 ; a seam- 
stress, 259 ; a yeoman, 303 ; a schol- 
arly farmer, 311 ; a parson, 316 ; a wan- 
dering woman, 317 ; an original, 321 ; 
a ragamuffin, 376 ; an artist, 378, 380 ; 
a Frenchman, 380 ; a groom, 385 ; old 
acquaintances, 389 ; commander of 8 
vessel, 389 ; a skipper, 433, 434. 



INDEX. 



449 



Charlemont, 163, 182. 

Charles IX., 124. 

Charles, the river, 261, 265. 

Cheever, Master, 238. 

Cherubs, 204. 

Childless people, 38. 

Children, 38 ; reminiscences, 38 ; Irish, 
61 ; in the woods, 70 ; asleep, 77 ; run- 
ning, 78 ; Joe, 144 ; 204 ; blind, 205 ; 
a little sailor, 220 ; babies, 362, 382, 
383, 407 ; 393, 397 ; murdered, 419. 

Children's sayings, 392, 393, 397, 407. 

Chimney-sweeper, a, 215. 

Chimney-sweeping, 41. 

Chinese architecture, 30. 

Christ, pictures of, 373, 379. 

Christian, 36, 219. 

Christianity, 72. 

Church-bells, 24. 

Cider, 408. 

Cilley, Mr., 90, 91. 

Circe's Palace, 444. 

Cistern, a, 285, 286. 

City Tavern, 17. 

City views, 377, 386, 388. 

Clare, Lord Chancellor, 40. 

Clarke, Sarah, 221. 

Classification, a new, 34. 

Classmate, a, 75. 

Clearing, a, 189. 

Clergymen, 111, 163, 164, 228,316. 

Clouds, 109, 214. 

Coal, 214, 215, 217, 219, 224. 

Coffin, a, 171. 

Cold, a, 231. 

Cold Spring, 15, 16, 96. 

Coleridge, S. T., 28. 

Colton, Commodore, 89. 

Columbus, the, 92. 

Combe 's Physiology, 282. 

Comedian, a, 111. 

Comet, the, 25. 

Commander of a vessel, 389. 

Commencement, 158. 

Commissioners, county, 173, 174. 

Common, the, 218. 

Communion of spirit, 224. 

Compensations, 34. 

Complaints, a dream of, 26, 36. 

Compliments, 166. 

Concord, 283, 288, 290, 306, 410, 444. 

Concord Railroad, 368. 

Concord River, 286, 287, 289, 309, 319, 
321, 322, 339, 343. 

Coney Island, 122. 

Confessor, a, 279. 

Connecticut, 201. 

Constantine, Emperor, 40. 

Constitution, the, 93. 

Contributions to one end, 108. 

Cooking, 363, 368. 

Copinger, Mr., 41. 

Copyrights, 240, 243. 

Corn, 202. 

Cornell, 123. 

Council of passengers, 32. 

Court Square, 375. 

vol. ix. 29 



Cow Island, 246, 260, 263. 

Cows, 227, 228, 229, 246, 247, 250, 285, 

393. 
Coxcomb, a, 195. 
Craft, 75. 
Crime, secret, 210, 273 ; without sense of 

guilt, 273. 
Cromwell, Oliver, 88. 
Crows, 137, 264, 306, 346. 
Crucifixion, the, 419. 
Cupid, 445. 
Cures, two, 274. 
Curse of Kehama, The, 122. 
Curtis, George, 368. 
Custom House, 215, 216, 217, 221, 225, 

234, 235. 
Customs, 28. 

Cutts, Lady Ursula, 277, 278. 
Cutts, Lord Thomas, 277. 
Cutts, Madam, 279. 
Cutts, Major, 279. 
Cutts, President, 278. 
Cyane, the, 113. 

Dana, Frank, 251. 

Danvers, 31, 410. 

Dark Lane, 31. 

Dead, appearance of the, 110, 283. 

Deaf man, a, 203. 

Death, 33, 35, 36, 37; by a cannon 
shot, 93 ; impending, 105 ; bells toll- 
ing, 190 ; 204, 207 ; in an attempt at 
perfection, 210 ; 212, 221 ; of a worker, 
273 ; deceived, 275 ; 308, 359, 396, 407, 
445. 

Declaration of Independence, 66. 

Dedham, 255. 

Deerfield River, 181. 

Deformity, 201. 

Deism, 72. 

Democratic Review, 342. 

Dentist, a, 143. 

Depression, 22, 28. 

Dial, The, 319, 332, 339. 

Dialogues, 209, 283. 

Diorama, a, 44, 179. 

Directions for a Candidate, 396. 

Diseases, personified, 89 ; 282 ; imagina- 
ry, 283 ; moral, 283. 

Dish-washing, 364. 

Dismal View, Mr., 230, 231. 

Distrust, 86. 

Divorce, 89. 

"Doctor, the," 72. 

Dogs, 140, 145, 151, 166, 178, 180, 200, 
281, 285. 

Don Frederick, 206. 

Don John, 206. 

Dover Point, 419. 

Downes, Commodore, 92. 

Dragon's Teeth, The, 444. 

Dreams, waking from, 33 ; life a dream, 
87 ; of old age, 207 ; 429. 

Dress, 277. 

Drinking, 375, 389. 

Drowned, the, 204; a school-teacher, 
419. 



450 



INDEX. 



Drunkenness, 162. 

Duck Island, 423, 439. 

Duels, 108, 274. 

Dumbness, 226. 

Dundry, 33. 

Dundry, church of, 33. 

Du Pont, Monsieur, 59. 

Dutchman, a, 179. 

Duyckinck, Mr. (of New York), 391. 

Eagles, 31. 

Earth-worms, 288. 

East- wind, 221, 222. 

Eating, 342, 363, 364, 365, 366, 374. 

Echo, 106. 

Edge Hill, 39. 

Editor, an, 112. 

Egyptian architecture, 39. 

Ejectment, 61. 

Elephants, 30, 193, 195. 

Elevation, 214. 

Eliot, John, 232. 

Elliott, Commodore, 92. 

Emerson, Mr. (of Staten Island), 332. 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 252, 284, 303, 

305, 308, 316, 325, 334, 343, 368, 385. 
Emerson, William, 293, 295. 396. 
Emotions, a woman without, 109. 
Enchanted rocks, 185. 
Endicott, John, 88. 
Ends, 107. 
Enemies, 23. 
Engineer, an, 195. 
English, Philip, 88, 94. 
Englishman, an, 166. 
Enoch, 283. 
Enterprise, the, 92. 
Essex Historical Society, 87. 
Estate, an, 409. 
Evenings, 225. 
Events, 36. 

Expectations, mistaken, 43. 
Experience, 37. 

F , Dr. L., 364. 

F , Lieutenant, 108. 

F , Mr., 366, 367, 368. 

Face in the rock, a, 210. 

Faces, 18. 

Factories, 134. 

Faerie Queene, 222. 

False hair, 275. 

False man, a, 205. 

Fame, 10, 32, 37, 42, 335. 

Familiar spirits, 209. 

Families, old, 88. 

Family mansion, the, 10, 222. 

Fancy pictures, 281. 

Fanny EUsler, the, 416, 421, 430, 434, 

441, 443. 
Farley, Mr., 228, 230, 232, 234. 
Farmer, a scholarly, 311. 
Farm-houses, 158, 245. 
Farming. See Agriculture, Gardens, 

and Work. 
Fat men, 386. 
Fate, book of, 283. 



Fate foreshadowed, 28. 

Faust, pen of, 395. 

Field, Miss Jenny, 391. 

Field, Mr. (of Stockbridge), 391. 

Fields, J. T., 9, 374, 391. 

Fields, Mrs. J. T., 391. 

Fire, 44, 445. 

Fire-flies, 206. 

Fish, 282, 288 ; a shark, 424. 

Five Points, 273. 

Flint, John, 326, 333. 

Flirtation, 80. 

Florence, 395. 

Flowers, from graves, 39; 71, 233, 234; 
gentians, 272, 326, 328 ; violets, 275 ; 
lilies, 286, 301 ; 287, 302 ; cardinal- 
flowers, 302 ; 353 ; the Arethusa, 354 ; 
394 ; Houstonias, 405 ; 405, 406, 407, 
433 

Fogs,' 84, 130, 151, 394, 429, 435. 

Folsom,Mr., 370, 371. 

Foresight of events, 273. 

Forests, 175, 305. 

Fort, an ancient, 81, 83. 

Fortune, 35. 

Fortune, digging for, 27. 

Fount of Tears, 395. 

Fountains, 37. 

Fourier, Francois, M. C, 407. 

Fourth of July, 116. 

Fowler (an officer), 277, 278. 

Fox, Rev. Mr., 336. 

Fox, Charles James, 41. 

Foxes, 30. 

Frankness, 275. 

Fredonia, 106. 

French people, the, 71. 

Frenchmen, 45, 50, 380. 

Friend, a perfidious, 207. 

Frog, a, in the stomach, 396. 

Frog Pond, the, 280. 

Frost, 351. 

Fruit, 294, 295, 296, 309, 311, 357, 378, 
390. See Apples, Butternuts, Grapes, 
and an Orchard. 

Fuller, Margaret, 225, 227, 228, 229, 252, 
305, 307, 334, 339. 

Funerals, 23, 24, 37, 38 ; a child's, 153 ; 
a boy's, 176 ; 342. 

Furness, Mr., 418. 

Furniture, old, 291, 292. 

Galliard (of Guernsey), 274. 

Gallows, the, 211. 

Gardens, 297, 300, 351, 352, 355, 356, 

425. See Agriculture and Work. 
Gardiner, 55. 
Gas, a spring of, 106. 
Gas-pipe, a, 106. 
Gavett, Captain, 158. 
Generosity, 394. 
Genius, and Stupidity, 27 ; 28. 
Gentians, 272, 326, 328. 
Gentlemen, Sunday, 17. 
Germans, 71. 
Ghosts, knockings of, 24 ; by moonlight, 

26 ; 292, 293, 333, 336, 416, 428, 438, 441. 



INDEX. 



451 



Giant, a, 164. 

Gibbs (pirate), 122. 

Gnomes, 106. 

Goddard, Joseph, 267. 

Golden Fleece, The, 444. 

Good deeds in an evil life, 43. 

Good in profusion a pest, 27. 

Gordier (of Guernsey), 274. 

Gorges, Sir Ferdinando, 278. 

Gosport,' 414, 418, 419, 441 ; Church 

Records, 444. 
Gothic architecture, 30. 
Gowans, Stephen, 39. 
Grandfather's Chair, 243. 
Grandfather's Chair, 241, 242. 
Grapes, 242, 246, 263, 378. 
Gratitude, 357. 
Graves, 24 ; flowers on, 39 ; 41, 208 ; of 

an enemy, 410. 
Graylock, 133, 136, 155, 165, 172, 177, 

178, 181, 188, 194, 198, 306. 
Great men, 381. 
Greek architecture, 30. 
Greeks, 397. 

Green Mountains, 163, 178, 181. 
Greene, Gardiner, 18. 
Greenfield, 154. 
Greenland, N. H., 410. 
Griffin, President, 134. 
Grondale Abbey, 277. 
Groom, a, 385. 
Guernsey, 274. 
Guilford Court House, 44. 
Gulls, 346. 

H , Captain, 74. 

H , E., 93, 284, 305. 

H , F., 212. 

H , H., 205. 

H , Hon. John, 81. 

H , L., 207. 

H Lawyer, 137, 141, 143, 149. 

H , Mrs., 74. 

Hair-dressing, 39. 

Hale, Mrs., 363, 366. 

Haley family, the, 432. 

Haley, Mr., 434. 

Hall, Colonel, 221, 361. 

Hallowell, 55. 

Hamilton, 410. 

Hamilton, the, 90. 

Hampton, 421. 

Hancock, Thomas, 396. 

Hand, an ice-cold, 280. 

Hand of Destiny, 180. 

Hand-organ, a, 173. 

Hansley (pirate), 122. 

Happiness, destroyed by one's self, 124 ; 

search for, 209 ; 283, 300, 301, 331, 355, 

409. 
Harris, Dr., 275. 
Harvard, 325. 
Hatch, Mr., 419, 420. 
Hathorne, Colonel John, 118. 
Hawion, Gen., 44. 
Hawthorne, Eben, 372. 
Hawthorne, family of, 33, 86, 93, 95. 



Hawthorne, Hugh, 86 

Hawthorne, John, 94. 

Hawthorne, Julian, 392, 404. 

Hawthorne, Nathaniel, biography, 5 ; 
Note-Books, 5 ; criticisms, 8. 

Hawthorne, Mrs. Nathaniel, 5. 

Hawthorne, Una, 354, 362, 398, 404. 

Hawthorne, William, 86. 

Hayward, Mr., 367. 

Hazard, Lieutenant, 113. 

Headley, J. T., 391. 

Heads falling simultaneously, 27. 

Heart, journal of a, 86. 

Heaven, 107 ; friends in, 207 208 ; meet- 
ing in, 212 ; 244, 302. 

Hebrew Bible, a, 203. 

Hedge, Mr., 368. 

Hedges, 40. 

Hemans, Mrs., 72. 

Hens, 299, 390. 

Herbert Street, Salem, 10. 

Heroes, 381. 

Heterogeny, a, 158. 

Hildreth, Richard, 370. 

HildreWs History of the United States, 
370. 

Hillard, George, 243, 303, 304, 355, 361. 

Hillard, Mrs. George, 355. 

Hints for characters. See Characters. 

Hints for Sketches. See Hints for Stories. 

Hints for Stories : bringing on a war, 19 ; 
an insane reformer, 20 ; a lover of sick- 
chambers, 21 ; an unsuspected cause 
of disaster, 21 ; a hero who never falls 
in love, 22 ; in the light of a street lan- 
tern, 22 ; disenchantment in love, 22 ; 
enemies by mistake, 23 ; wills made in 
each other's favor, 23 ; a hard-hearted 
man, 24 ; renewed youth, 24 ; myste- 
rious knocking, 24 ; a petrified body, 
24 ; love, a spirit of mischief, 25 ; 
thronged solitude, 25 ; buried treas- 
ure, 25 ; a staff taking root, 25 ; chain 
and padlock, 26 ; a magical book, 26 ; 
a ghost by moonlight, 26 ; scold and 
blockhead, 26 ; reflection in a mirror, 
26 ; a dream of complaints, 26 ; a 
brotherhood of the unlike, 27 ; unsus- 
pected influence, 27 ; good desired a 
pest, 27 ; digging for a fortune, 27 ; 
one event in several places, 27 ; life in 
instalments, 27 ; an unforeseen catas- 
trophe, 28 ; the worldly in Paradise, 
29 ; a council of passengers, 32 ; a 
Thanksgiving dinner, 32 ; a new Adam 
and Eve, 33 ; a snake a type of envy, 
34 ; imperfect compensations, 34 ; a 
fancy ball, 34 ; wasted sunshine, 34 ; 
a new classification, 34 ; fortune as a 
pedlar, 35 ; people wearing masks, 35 ; 
ruin under various guises, 36 ; events 
of the day, 36 ; measuring time by 
sunshine, 36 ; building a pleasure- 
house, 37 ; a child's reminiscences, 38-, 
a vicious person among the virtuous, 
38 ; temptations of the Devil, 38 ; a 
lover buried in a flower-garden, 39 ; a 



452 



INDEX. 



magic lantern, 39 ; a city missionary's 
labors, 40 ; money for a breach of 
promise by instalments, 41 ; publish- 
ments arranged, 42; Sunday-schools, 
42; United States government repre- 
sented, 42 ; a statue of snow, 42 ; a 
body possessed by two spirits, 42 ; a 
servant who cannot be turned away, 
43 ; mistaken expectations, 43 ; latent 
evil roused by circumstances, 43; good 
deeds in an evil life, 43 ; an imaginary 
museum, 43 ; ruin personified, 44 ; fire, 
smoke, diseases of mind, 44 ; happi- 
ness close at hand, 86 ; journal of a 
heart, 86 ; distrust, 86 ; life seeming 
a dream, 87 ; sunshine passing from 
object to object, — to the churchyard, 
87 ; an idle man on the sea-shore, 87 ; 
a blind man and his guides, 87 ; dis- 
eases personified, 89 ; married people 
finding themselves free to separate, 
89 ; effect of altered conditions on 
character, 98 ; stories of the tiles, 105 ; 
last visits of a dying person, 105 ; life 
in hotels and taverns, 105 ; bettering 
perfection, 106 ; attempting the im- 
possible, 106 ; scenes lighted by a gas- 
pipe, 106 ; chasing Echo, 106 ; a spring 
of gas, 106 ; gnomes burrowing in teeth, 
106 ; men without hope, 107 ; sorrow 
personified, 107 ; all wronged and 
wrongers, 107 ; winds personified, 107; 
living two lives, 107 ; a poisoned or- 
nament, 107 ; a potion poisonous ac- 
cording to character, 108 ; many con- 
tributing to one end, 108 ; a jewel un- 
expectedly found, 109 ; poison in the 
sacrament, 109 ; return of images in a 
mirror, 109; a woman without emo- 
tions, 109 ; two portraits, 109 ; ruined 
in jest, 110 ; a sealed letter, 110 ; an 
insane belief in greatness, 110 ; a 
dreadful secret, 110; appearance of 
the dead, 110 ; insanity from another's 
influence, 110 ; a girl and her different 
lovers, 110 ; a man completely in an- 
other's power, 113 ; a miser's punish- 
ment, 122; happiness destroyed by 
one's self, 124; burning of maskers, 124; 
getting out of one's self, 125 ; a steam- 
engine possessed, 149 ; the drowned 
rising, 204 ; history of a lake, 204 ; 
success a penance, 205 ; lighting fire 
with fire-flies, 206 ; dreaming a friend 
an enemy, 207 ; Pandora's box, 207 ; 
dreaming of old age, 207; a family 
newspaper, 207 ; close observation by 
a stranger, 208 ; the point of view, 
208 ; the search for happiness, 209 ; 
dialogues of the unborn, 209 ; taking 
the family lineaments, 209 ; a fire on 
Ararat, 210 ; ice in the blood, 210 ; 
the Salamander, the Phcenix, 210 ; a 
face in the rock, 210 ; death in raising 
one beloved to perfection, 210 ; prayer 
for one tempted, 210 ; a secret thing 
in public, 210 ; a scarecrow, 211 ; a 



coroner's inquest, 211 ; life spent on a 
trifle, 211 ; burning the gallows, 211 ; 
a talisman within, 212 ; a shadowy 
pageant, 212 ; subjection to a stronger 
will, 272 ; influence of secret crime, 
273 ; crime without sense of guilt, 273 ; 
strangeness of future events, 273 ; a 
snake a symbol of cherished sin, 274 •, 
a mesmerized person questioned, 274 ; 
a prophecy in Swift's style, 275 ; a 
father confessor's reflections, 279 ; an 
ice-cold hand, 280 ; fancy pictures of 
unvisited places, 281 ; historical char- 
acters reappearing, 282 ; moral, sym- 
bolized by physical, disease, 282 ; dia- 
logues of the dead, 283; imaginary 
diseases and impossible remedies, 283 ; 
a physician for moral diseases, 283 ; 
moral slavery, 283 : a leaf from the 
book of fate, 283 ; a bloody foot-print, 
395 ; witch - like malignity, 395 ; the 
Fount of Tears, 395 ; newspaper ad- 
vertisements, 396 ; an eating - house 
with poisoned dishes, 396 ; the cen- 
tury personified, 396 ; voyage of a 
child's boat, 403. 

History, Habits, and Instincts of Animals, 
30. 

Hodge, the Blacksmith, 141, 142. 

Hodge, Otis, 174. 

Hodges, John, 170. 

Hog Island, 423, 428, 434, 441, 442. 

Holinshed, Raphael, 31. 

Holmes, Dr., 391. 

Home, 291, 326, 329, 336. 

Hoosic Mountains, 163, 179. 

Hope, 107. 

Horse-jockey, 188. 

Horses, 199. 

Hosmer, Mr. 286. 

Hospitality, 303. 

Hotels, Maverick, 16 ; Mechanics, 17 ; 
City Tavern, 17 ; Rice's, 18 ; Mansion 
House, 52, 57 ; a story of, 105 ; life in, 
111 ; 112 ; Tremont House, 115 ; Tem- 
perance House, 125 ; Berkshire, 130 ; 
131 : North Adams House, 143 ; Laigh- 
ton's, 411, 423 ; on Smutty Nose Isl- 
and, 433. 

Houses, old, 24 ; English, 31 ; 57, 99, 100, 
258, 266, 439. 

Howes, George, 362. 

Howes, Mr., 362. 

Hudson, Henry, 146. 

Hudson's Brook, 156, 165. 

Hudson's Cave, 146, 156, 164, 175. 

Hudson's Falls, 146. 

Hull, Isaac, 92. 

Hunt, Leigh, 282. 

Hutchinson, Mr., 240. 

Hyena, a, 193. 

I , S., 95. 

Ideas, 37. 

Imagination, 22, 245. 
Imitators, 402. 
Immortality, 357. 



INDEX. 



453 



Impertinence, 125. 

Importance, individual, 32. 

Impossibilities, attempting, 106. 

Improving perfection, 10G. 

Indian Summer, 326, 327. 

Indians, 109, 171, 318, 320. 

Individual importance, 32. 

Influence, unsuspected, 27. 

Ingersol, Miss, 206. 

Inquest, a coroner's, 211. 

Insects : fireflies, 206 ; butterflies, 224 ; 

wasps, 231 ; 264 ; mosquitoes, 272 ; 

bees, 275, 299 ; 288, 352, 390. 
Insincerity, 107. 
Intriguer, an, 205. 
Introductory Note, 5. 
Invalidism, 62, 427. 
Ipswich, 10, 19. 
Irish, 53, 56, 57, 60, 64, 77 ; shanties, 

359. 
Islands, 90. 
Isles of Shoals, 410, 444. 

Jack the Giant-Killer, 381. 

Jackson, Andrew, 44. 

Jail, the, 14. 

Jamaica Plain, 266. 

Jaques, Doctor, 115. 

Jenkins, Mr., of Amherst, 186. 

Jests becoming earnest, 21. 

Jewel, a famous, 109. 

Jewett, Ellen, 123. 

Jewish adage, 31. 

Joe, 144. 

Johnson, Dr., 205. 

Jose, 253. 

Josephine, Empress, 66. 

Journals, 6. 

Juniper, the, 13, 85. 

Justice, 394. 

Justice Shallow, 295. 

Kennebec, the River, 47, 55, 63, 67. 

Kidd, Captain, 416. 

King's Chapel, 20. 

Kirby, Rev. William, 30. 

Kittery, 278. 

Knights of the Round Table, 59. 

Knock-down money, 143. 

Knox, General, 80, 276. 

Knox, Lady, 82, 276. 

Labor. See Agriculture, Gardens, and 

Work. 
Ladislaus, King of Naples, 395. 
Ladurlad, 122. 
Laighton, Mr., 411, 412, 416, 421, 422, 

423, 429, 430, 431, 434, 438, 442, 443. 
Laighton, Oscar, 424. 
Laighton's Hotel, 411, 423. 
Lakes, 204, 393, 408. 
Lamp, a, 22. 

Landing of the Pilgrims, 72. 
Landscape. See Scenery. 
Language, 390. 
Languages, foreign, 27. 
Lapland, 279, 



Latent evil, 43. 

Laughter, 161. 

Lawyer, a degraded, 137, 141, 143, 149. 

Leach, Mr., 178, 179, 185, 186, 195. 

Learning, 275. 

Lectures, 225. 

Leith, 41. 

Lenore, 332. 

Lenox, 409. 

Leo, 363, 365, 366, 367. 

Letter, a sealed, 110. 

Letters, changing, 208 ; extracts from, 
213, 338, 445. 

Leverett, Governor, 87, 88. 

Liberty Tree, 239, 240. 

Life, in instalments, 27, 72 ; a double, 
107 ; a burden, 213 ; 222 ; embroid- 
ered, 279 ; 355 ; in the rough, 381. 

Light literature, effect of, 22. 

Light-house, a, 425. 

Lightning-rod, 397. 

Likeness, a, 212. 

Lilly, William, 209. 

Lime-kilns, 195. 

Lion, a, 193. 

Litchfield, 201. 

Literary work, 236, 241, 242, 330, 333, 
337 ; in summer, 355 ; 372 

Lockport, 106. 

London, 276. 

London Metropolitan, 374. 

London newspaper, a, 33. 

Londoner's Rock, 426, 441. 

Longfellow, H. W., 331, 361, 363, 

Longfellow, Mrs. H. W., 363. 

Loon, a, 435. 

Lord, Miss Hannah, 19. 

Loudon, Earl of, 239. 

Louis le Debonnaire, 40. 

Louisbourg, 88. 

Love, 22 ; a spirit of mischief, 25 ; 
earthly, 25 ; 212, 445. 

Love-affairs, 144. 

Lovers, of a beautiful girl, 110 ; in a 
stage, 132. 

Lowell, J. R., 392. 

Lowell, Mrs. J. R., 392. 

Lucas, 253. 

Lunatic Asylum, 206. 

Lyndes, the, 119. 

M , 331. 

Macedonian, the, 92, 93. 

Machinery, 142. 

Madness, 54, 110 ; from outside influence, 

110 ; a leap in, 195 ; 236 ; produced, 

282. 
Magic, book of, 26. 
Magic-lantern, 39. 
Magnolia, 118. 
Magnet, a, 210. 
Magnetism, 72, 244. See Mesmerism and 

Spiritualism. 
Maine, 45, 67. 
Mainiacs, the, 57. 
Malaga, 434. 
Malignity of a witch, 395. 



454 



INDEX. 



Man a brute, 34. 

Man and Nature, 97. 

Man of Adamant, The, 239. 

Mankind, 282. 

Manse, the old, 283, 290, 291, 33G, 363, 

396. 
Mansfield, Mr., 391. 
Mansion House, 52, 57. 
Mansion House, old, 88. 
Manual Labor School, 89. 
Marble, 131, 146, 149, 156, 195. 
Marblehead, 120, 121. 
Marriage, 72 ; dissolved, 89 ; 190. See 

Matrimony. 
Martha, Miss, 366. 
Mary, Bloody, 42. 

Mather, Rev. Cotton, 118, 238, 412 

Mather, Nathaniel, 118. 

Mathers Manduction and Ministerium, 

396. 
Matrimony, 300. See Marriage. 
Matthews, Cornelius, 391. 
Maverick House, 16. 
Maxims. See Precepts. 
May, 219. 
May-day, 233. 
Measure for Measure, 212. 
"Mechanics, The" 17. 
Melrose Abbey, 372. 
Melville, Herman, 391. 
Melville, Mr. (Junior), 391. 
Merchant, a, 115. 
Merrimack, the, 321, 370. 
Merry, 33. 
Mesmerism, 274. See Magnetism and 

Spiritualism. 
Methodist, a, 169. 
Milton, 267. 
Milton, John, 299. 
Mind, diseases of, 44, 54. 
Mineral Spring, 97. 
Minister's Black Veil, the, 63. 
Minotaur, The, 444. 
Minot's Light, 423. 
Miroir, Monsieur du, 239. 
Mirror, reflection in, 26 ; images in, 109. 
Mirth, 62. 
Miser, a, 122. 

Miserable, the, a dream of, 26. 
Misfortune elevating, 396. 
Missionary, a, 40. 
Mistakes, 27. 
Mists. See Fogs. 
Mohun, Lady, 274. 
Mohun, Lord. 274. 
Molly, the cook, 333, 338. 
Monadnock, 181. 
Monkey, a, 116. 
Montreux, 274. 
Monument Mountain, 391, 393, 394, 399, 

402, 406. 
Monuments, 212, 397 ,• Captain John 

Smith's, 412, 422, 439. 
Moonlight, 207, 308. 
Moore, Thomas, 72. 
Morality, 59, 62. 



, Morning, 75, 121, 177, 348. 
Mosses from an Old Manse, 9. 
Motto, a, 275. 
Moulton, Sheriff, 276. 
Mountains, 136, 146, 149, 155, 172, 174, 

177, 178, 181, 188, 193, 197, 208, 268, 

391, 392, 397, 402. 
Mowing, 68. 
Murder, 274. 
Murderers, 122. 
Museum, an imaginary, 43 
Mushrooms, 57. 
Music-box, a, 338. 
Musketaquid, 320. 
Mystery, 219. 

N , C, 334. 

Nahant, 18. 

Nancy, 74. 

Napoleon, 180. 

National Theatre, 381. 

Natural History, 93. 

Nature's work, 97. 

Navy Yard, 90. 

Negroes, 160, 203. 

Nelson, Admiral, 180. 

Netherlands, the, 40. 

New Church, the, 373. 

Newburyport, 321. 

Newcastle, 368. 

Newspaper agent, 186 ; a family, 207 ; 

advertisements, 396. 
Newton, 266. 
Newton, West, 409. 
Niagara Falls, 106. 
Night, 128. 

North Adams House, 143. 
North Branch, 164, 322, 343. 
North River, the, 23. 
Northfield, 95. 
Norwegian, a, 411. 
Notch, the, 172, 197. 
Note Books, English, 5, 69 ; French and 

Italian, 6 ; first, 6 ; American, 7 ; 

omissions, 11 ; 13. 

Oak Hall, 382. 
Oak Hill, 226. 
Ocean, within the globe, 30, 84, 85, 90, 

120 ; saltness, 407 ; 428, 435, 441. 
Odd people, 321. 
Office, 330. 
Officers, naval, 116. 
Old acquaintances, 389. 
Old Bab, 416, 428, 441. 
Oliver, Mr., 239. 
Oliver, Peter, 88. 
Olivers, the, 88, 89. 
Opium-eater, an, 203. 
Orange, 252. 

Orchards, 294. See Fruit. 
Organs, 40. 

Ornament, poisoned, 107. 
O'Sullivan, Mr. (publisher), 337. 
Our Old Home, 9. 
Owls, 17, 426. 
Owl's Head, 83. 









INDEX. 



455 



P , Colonel, 119. 

P , Dr., 118, 119. 

P , George, 365. 

P , M., 119. 

P , Mrs., 364, 365, 366, 367, 

P , Rev. E., 205. 

Pageant, a, 212. 

Painting, 207. 

Palo Alto hats, 382, 383. 

Pandora's box, 207. 

Paradise, worldly people in, 29. 

Park Street Church, 387. 

Parker's eating-hall, 377. 

Parker's grog-shop, 375, 377. 

Partridge, 275. 

Passion, 22, 110. 

Pasture, a, 246. 

Paths, 271. 

Pedestrian tour, a, 325. 

Pedlars, 126, 157, 158, 187. 

Penance, legend, 20. 

Penobscot Bay, 84. 

Pepin, King, 40. 

Pepperell, Andrew, 276. 

Pepperell family, 276. 

Pepperell, Lady, 275. 

Pepperell, Sir William, 87, 276, 412. 

Percival, Captain, 90. 

Pergasus, 143. 

Perquisites, 143. 

Peter Goldthwaite, 374. 

Peter's path, 366. 

Petrified bodies, 24. 

Phillips, Mr. (of Boston), 125. 

Phillips's Beach, 102. 

Phoenix, the, 210. 

Physician, a, for moral diseases, 283. 

Picnic, a, 251. 

Pictures, of an actor, 45 ; historical, 87, 
89 ; 109, 372, 373 ; in a saloon, 376. 

Pierce, Franklin, 410, 411, 418, 420. 

Pigs, 14, 20, 187, '.100, 250, 253, 297. 

Pilgrim's Progress, 36. 

Pirates, literary, 374. 

Piscataqua River, 419. 

Pittsfield, 130. 

Piatt (driver), 199, 

Pleasure-house, a, 37. 

Plymouth pilgrim/), 226. 

Poetry, 28. 

Poison, according to character, 108 ; in 
the sacrament, '.'09, 209 ; in a handker- 
chief, 395 ; in food, 396. 

Politicians, 215. 

Pomegranate Seeds, The, 444. 

Ponds, 304, 358. 

Pond-Lily, the, 32 L, 322. 

Portraits, 372, 373. 

Portsmouth, 368, 420, 423. 

Possession by two spirits, 42. 

Posterity, 212. 

Pot-holes, 184. 

Power, one man in another's, 113, 

Pownall, 195. 

Prayer, 30. 

Precepts, 28 ; Jewish, 31. 



Pre-Raphaelitism, 415. 

Prescott, George, 284, 363. 

Prescott, Mrs., 396. 

Prideaux, Bishop of Worcester, 26. 

Prisoner, a, 36. 

Proctor, Mr., 16. 

Prodigal Son, 80. 

Prophecy, a, 275. 

Prosperity, 179. 

Province House, 110. 

Publishments, 42. 

Puddles, 208, 214. 

Pulpit Rock, 271. 

Putnam, Mr. (justice of the peace), 165. 

Pygmies, The, 444. 

Pyncheon, Governor, 88. 

Quaker, letter of a, 9. 

R , D., 326. 

Rabelais, 8, 327. 

Race, a new, 33. 

Ragamuffin, a, 376. 

Raikes, Robert, 42. 

Railroads, 369. 

Rain, 312. 

Rainbow, a, 214. 

Randall (tailor), 186. 

Randall (wrestler), 160. 

Reappearances, 282. 

Rebellion, a, 224. 

Rebellion, the Great, 30. 

Recluse, a, 36. 

Reflection, 324. 

Reformer, a modern, 21 . 

Rejoicing, 36. 

Relics, 88 ; a wine-glass, 206 ; 276, 277. 

Religion, 289, 290. 

Rensselaer School, 184. 

Reserve, 335. 

Rest, 222. 

Resurrectionists, 154. 

Revenge, 41. 

Revolution, the, 293. 

Revolutionary pensioners, 190. 

Rice's Hotel, 18. 

Rings, 282. 

Ripley, Dr. Ezra, 291, 294, 295, 348, 396. 

Ripley, Mr., 227, 228, 230, 236, 244, 351. 

Ripley, Samuel, 396. 

Rivers, 23, 47, 60, 63, 70, 182, 265, 280, 

289, 290, 309, 319, 323, 324, 329 ; in 

Spring, 339 ; 350. 
Road-making, 173. 
Robinson, R. P., 123. 
Robinson's Tavern, 66. 
Rocher de Caucale, 71. 
Rocks rent, 419. 
Rogers, Rev. Nathaniel, 19. 
Ruin, 36, 44; in jest, 110. 
Russell, Mary Ann, 72. 
Rye Beach, 421, 423, 430. 

S , Miss A., 354. 

S , Mrs. F., 354. 

S , Monsieur, 45, 50, 56, 58, 62, 71, 7& 

S , Orrin E., 154, 167, 168, 176, 190. 



456 



INDEX. 



Sabbath, 171. 

Sacrament, the, 40 ; poison in, 109. 

Saddle Mountain, 165, 172, 190, 197. 

Saddleback, 133, 174, 178, 188, 195, 198. 

Sadness of the world, 21. 

Salamanders, 210, 395. 

Salem, 13, 28, 32, 85, 98 ; house in, 206 ; 
234, 331, 334. 

Salem, North, walk in, 14. 

Salt, 224. 

Samphire, 15. 

Sarah, the cook, 300. 

" Satan," 119, 273. 

Satire, 124, 395. 

Saurians, 30. 

Scarecrow, a, 211. 

Scarlet Letter, The, 9, 374. 

Scenery. See Afternoon, Autumn, 
Brooks, a Clearing, Clouds, Fogs, For- 
ests, Indian Summer, Lakes, Maine, 
Morning, Mountains, Night, Ocean, a 
Pasture, Ponds, a Rainbow, Rivers, 
Sea-shore, Spring, Storms, Summer, 
Sunrise, Sunset, Sunshine, Twilight, 
and Winter. 

School-mistress, a, 282. 

Scold and blockhead, 26. 

Scott, Captain, 91, 92, 93. 

Scott, Sir Walter, 372. 

Scott's pond, 408. 

Scrap-books, 8, 

Sculpture, 207. 

Sea. See Ocean. 

Sea-captain, an, 43. 

Sea-shore, 13, 28 ; an idle man on, 87 ; 
90, 102, 119. 

Seamstress, a, 259. 

Seclusion, 122. 

Secret, a dreadful, 110. 

Secret thing, a, in a public place, 210. 

Sedgewick, Henry, 391. 

Seeing one's self, 125. 

Selfishness, 212. 

Sensualists, pigs, 14. 

Servant, a, not to be turned away, 43. 

Sewall, Judge, 276. 

Shaker Bridal, 374. 

Shaker village, 325. 

Shakers, 14. 

Shark, a, 424. 

Sheep, 150, 200. 

Shelburne Falls, 163, 178, 183, 185. 

Shells, 40. 

Ships, 29, 90, 113 ; coal, 214, 226 ; toy, 
280; passengers, 410, 426, 427; wrecked, 
428 ; 431, 432, 434. 

Shirley, Governor, 238 ; his wife, 240. 

Siamese twins, 123. 

Sigourney, Mrs. L. H., 28. 

Sketches, hints for. See Hints for Sto- 
ries. 

Skipper, a, 433, 434. 

Slade, Ellen, 234. 

Slavery, 33, 160, 201, 203 ; moral, 283. 

Sleep, 55. 

Sleepy Hollow, 307, 328. 

Smiles, 212, 397. 



Smith, Captain John, 59, 412, 422, 439. 

Smoke, 21, 44 ; peat, 98. 

Smutty Nose Island, 423, 431, 434, 436, 

439, 441, 442. 
Snake, a type of envy, 34 ; a symbol of 

sin, 274. 
Snakes, 191, 421, 445. 
Snake-tamer, 192. 
Snapper, 151. 

Snow's History of Boston, 239. 
Society, 38. 

Solitude, thronged, 25 ; 38, 331-344. 
Solomon, 272. 

Sorrow, 36 ; personified, 107. 
Souls, 217, 288, 289. 
Sparhawk, Colonel, 276. 
Sparhawk portraits, 277. 
Sparhawk property, 276. 
Sparrows, 211. 
Spendthrift, a, 282. 
Spirits, two in one body, 42. 
Spiritual bodies, 224. 
Spiritualism, 244. See Magnetism and 

Mesmerism. 
Spring, 344, 348, 400, 401, 403, 405, 406. 
Spy, the, 417, 418, 423, 430. 
Square Rock, 435. 
Squire, a, 174. 
Squirrel, a, 270. 
Stable, a, 384. 
Stages, 67; passengers, 126, 129, 132, 

152 ; drivers, 127, 128, 133. 
Star Island, 413, 423, 433, 434, 436, 439, 

441. 
Stars, 394. 

Station-house, a, 369. 
Statue of snow, 42. 
Stealing, 165. 
Steamboats, 56. 

Steam-engines, 77 ; possessed, 149. 
Steeples, 37. 

Stewart, Rear-Admiral Charles, 92. 
Stockbridge, 391. 

Stories, Hints for. See Hints for Sto- 
ries. 
Storms, 131, 151. 
Stoves, 280, 328. 
Street-lantern, a, 22. 
Strong (murderer), 123. 
Stuart, Lord James, 39. 
Stuart, Professor, 83. 
Students, 163, 164, 185. 
Studley Castle, 31. 
Study, effect of, 22. 
Subjection to a stronger will, 272. 
Summer, 112, 352, 355. 
Sunday, mode of spending, 17 ; breaking 

18; 42,306. 
Sunday-schools, 42. 
Sundial, a, 212. 
Sunlight, 207. 
Sunrise, 75, 315. 
Sunset, 112. 
Sunshine, 34, 36, 75 ; resting last on the 

churchyard, 87 ; reflected, 97. 
Sunshine, moral, 314. 
Surinam, 10. 



INDEX. 



457 



Swallows, 78. 

Swedenborgian, a, 373. 

Swift, Dean, 14, 275, 395. 

Swine, 14, 20, 187, 200, 250, 253, 297. 

Swinnerton, Dr. John, 118. 

Sylva Sylvarum, 93. 

T , Mr. (of Newburyport), 414. 

Taconic, 400, 403, 408. 

Talisman, a, 212. 

Tanglewood Tales, 444. 

Tantalus, 286. 

Tarleton, Bannastre, 44. 

Tavern-keeper, a passionate, 49, 200. 

Taverns, City, 17 ; 19, 57; Robinson's, 

66 ; Barker's, 72 ; 80 ; a story of, 105 ; 

153 ; on Hoosic Mountain, 179 ; at 

Shelburne Falls, 184. 
Temperance House, 125. 
Temple, the, 272. 
Temple Place, 377, 386. 
Temptation, 210. 
Territory, disputed, 57, 68. 
Tertian Ague, 273. 
Thankfulness, 357. 
Thanksgiving, 32, 206, 329. 
Thaxter, Karl, 444. 
Thaxter, Miss, 438. 
Thaxter, Mr., 412, 414, 415, 417, 418, 

419, 423, 424, 426, 428, 431, 434, 437, 

442, 443, 444. 
Thaxter, Mrs., 415, 423, 437, 444. 
Theology, 273. 

Thompson, Mr. (artist), 372, 373, 378. 
Thompson's Island, 89. 
Thoreau, Henry D.,284, 318, 320, 321, 

323, 332, 333, 334, 338, 343, 347. 
Ticknor, George, 371. 
Tieck, Ludwig, 333, 338, 339, 342, 343. 
Tiger, 178. 
Tiles, stories of, 105. 
Titcomb, B. B., 415, 417, 430. 
Toil, 213. See Work. 
Tombs, 37, 66, 81, 119, 132, 204. 
Tramp, a, 178. 
Transcript, The, 112. 
Translations, 27. 
Travellers, 202, 410, 426. 
Travelling : stages, 126 ; by water, 410. 
Treasure, buried, 25, 416, 420. 
Trees, guarding a treasure, 25 ; a staff 

taking root, 25. See Forests, Hedges, 

Juniper, Willows, Wood. 
Tremont House, 115, 204. 
Trifles, 36, 211. 
Trinity Church, 429. 
Trollope, Anthony, 8. 
Truth, 22, 232. 
Tucke, Rev. Mr., 418, 444. 
Tufts, Mr., 435. 
Turtles, 258. 
Twilight, 354. 
Twining, Mr. (sheriff), 163. 
Tyler, Judge, 124. 

Una's Lion 363,365,367, 
Uncle John, 190. 



Underwitted old man, an, 135. 
Union Street, Salem, 10, 32. 
Union Village, 150. 
United States government, 42. 
Unreality, 109. 
Upham, Judge, 418, 419. 
Ursula, Lady, 277, 278. 
Uttoxeter, 205. 

Vagrants, 317. 

Van Bur en, Martin, 49. 

Vegetables, 57, 202, 257, 297 298, 351 

352, 353, 354, 355, 356. 
Venus, 121. 
Vermont, 193. 

Vice, relations to virtue, 38. 
Vigwiggie, 336, 341. 
Virtue, relations to vice, 38. 
Visitors, 284. 
Voltaire, Francois-Marie Arouet, 333. 

W , Lieutenant F., 108. 

Wachusett, 306. 

Waiting, 86. 

Walden Pond, 303, 304, 358, 359. 

Waldoborough, 81. 

Wales, Prince of, 41, 44. 

Walker, Clement, 30. 

Ward, Sam G., 334. 

Washington, 445. 

Washington, Mount, 134. 

Washington Street, 387. 

Wasps, 231. 

Watched by a stranger, 208. 

Water, drinking, 30 ; in a rock, 34. 

Waterloo, Battle of, 433. 

Waterston, Mr. (of Philadelphia), 89. 

Wave, the, 433, 434. 

Wax-figures, 122. 

Wayside, the, 445. 

Weariness, 22. 

Weathercock, 397. 

Webster, Daniel, 396. 

Weeds, 349, 353, 354. 

Weiss, Mr. (clergyman), 412, 415, 417. 

Westminster Abbey, 40. 

Whales, 443. 

Whig Party, the, 41. 

Whipple, Colonel, 278. 

Whipple, Edwin, P., 391. 

Whipple, Mrs. Edwin P., 391. 

Whipple, Mrs., 123. 

Whirlwind, 98. 

Whist, 412. 

White Island, 423, 424, 441. 

White Mountains, 438. 

Wickedness, 38 ; latent, 43. 

Widower, a, 154. 

Wife, a missing, 72, 74. 

Wigcastle, 86. 

Wigton, 86. 

Williams College, 134, 149, 158. 

Williamstown, 172. 

Williamstown graduates, 162, 163. 

Williamstown students, 163. 

Willows, 351. 

Wills, 23. 



458 



INDEX. 



Windows, ancient, 31. 

Winds personified, 107. 

Windsor, 129. 

Winter, 226, 329, 348, 398, 400. 

Winter Island, 85. 

Witches' viands, 397, 

Wives, 32. 

Wolves, 30. 

Women, 80; French, 53; Irish, 53, 56, 
61, 62, 64 ; 118, 124 ; a mother, 204 ; 
a seamstress, 259 ; dress, 277 ; a va- 
grant, 317 ; at the theatre, 382 ; a 
vision, 407 ; bearded, 414. 

Wood. 392. 



Wood-choppers, 190. 

Worcester Lunatic Asylum, 206. 

Worcester, Prideaux, Bishop of, 26. 

Words, 219, 226. 

Work, 230, 233, 234, 235, 236, 257, 297. 
See Agriculture, Gardens, and Liter- 
ary Work. 

Worldly people, 29. 

Wrestler, a, 160. 

Wronged and wrongers, 107. 

Yankees, 47, 57, 59, 410, 413, 416, 417. 
Yeoman, a, 303. 
Youth, 24, 28. 



HK22V-78 



